


tangled ribbons

by demistories



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Human Kwami, Human Plagg, Human Tikki, Slow Burn, its a ballet au that is all, the slowest of slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-22 05:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 82,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demistories/pseuds/demistories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette is a small studio dancer who wins a scholarship to a summer long ballet intensive. Adrien is a famous ballet dancer who would rather be at home than at said intensive. The end of the summer will bring about a showcase that could make Marinette's career, if she can ignore Chloé and focus on something other than Adrien. </p><p>Sore muscles, coffee breaks, and video chats ensue. And there is an awful lot of fondue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. barre

**Author's Note:**

> WOW ok here we are!! I really missed dance and it was late at night and I saw [gabzilla-z's beautiful ballet art](http://gabzilla-z.tumblr.com/post/138977150719/pas-de-deux) and here we are!
> 
> This is about a third experience, a third of stories I've heard from a few friends who did a ballet camp, and a third 'this is fanfiction I am making this up'. This is one long journey of wow I cannot spell any ballet terms. 
> 
> Shoutout to [zoenightstars](http://zoenightstars.tumblr.com), [chassecroise](http://chassecroise.tumblr.com/), [chatstronaut](http://chatstronaut.tumblr.com/), [volpinc](http://volpinc.tumblr.com/), and literally so many people for getting hyped up about this which made _me_ really excited. Thank you so much to you four specifically for listening to me rant about this. (And I seriously hope I didn't hype this up too much)
> 
> Occasionally there'll be videos and links in the end notes for reference!
> 
> Enjoy!

Marinette winces as her knees crack when she drops to grand plié. She can hear Chloé’s snickering, even if it’s only in Chloé’s head because Chloé _always_ snickers when someone’s joints crack. And that feeling of everyone looking at you when your joints crack? Marinette can do without.

It’s only been two days since the start of this summer intensive, and Marinette is sort of regretting coming. Just a little bit.

It’s an incredible opportunity, with incredible dancers and incredible teachers. It’s a way to network, although she’d rather just not think about that. It’s a way to build a career. It’s a way to build a name for herself. It’s a way to build experience. It’s a way to massively improve.

But at the same time, she misses home. She misses her small little studio with smudged mirrors and tap shoe marks on the walls. She misses how only one speaker worked most of the time. She misses stretching in her room and practicing turns in the living room while Maman cooked and Papa baked downstairs. She misses Alya hitting repeat on the music automatically, not looking up from whatever article she was working on at the time.

It’s only been two days, and Marinette is homesick.

She knows when she adjusts she’ll love it here. She’ll love the people and the studio and the lessons and even the technique classes. But right now… Right now, her shoes feel wrong and she feels like she’s being examined under a microscope.

When Chloé shoves her out of the way to go across the floor in Adrien’s group, Marinette just sighs and hides herself in the back.

—«·»—

Marinette smiles as Alya’s face appears on her screen.

“Mari!” Alya shouts, hugging her computer.

Marinette laughs and wraps her arms around her laptop. “Alya! I miss you.”

“Miss you too.” Alya sits down and wipes her eyes under her glasses. “It’s been two days, how are we going to last most of the summer?”

Marinette shakes her head. “I have no idea.” She almost hasn’t made two days, there is no imaginable way that she’ll make it all summer.

“You soaking?” Alya asks, flipping through a battered journal.

Marinette kicks her feet in the bucket they’re in a few times so Alya can hear the splashing. “What else did you expect?” Her feet haven’t hurt this much since she first started pointe.

Alya shrugs. “You forgetting to take care of yourself? Don’t you dare say that never happens. What’s your poison today?”

“The usual, warm water and baking soda.” If Marinette’s going to spend all summer dancing, she needs to keep her feet in the best condition possible. Whether that’s through soaking or massaging or literally not putting weight on her feet for most of the evening. The amount of research her and Alya did about foot and pointe shoe care before Marinette left was actually incredible. “Today was mostly technique, and we did _so many relevés_ ,” she complains. “My calves are _dying._ ”

Alya rolls her eyes. “Says the girl who once spent every second she was standing doing relevés.”

“That was different!” Marinette protests. “First of all, I was in flats, not going en pointe. Second, I was eight. And dreaming of dancing en pointe.”

“And look where all those relevés got you,” Alya says fondly. “Just keep doing relevés, Mari. It’ll take you places.”

Marinette laughs. “I’m glad you believe in the power of relevés.”

“Someone has to.” Alya types rapidly for a moment. “How are the people there? Do they stand up to the standard I’ve set, because you’re with them all summer and painfully deprived of me.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Wow, Alya.”

“I know. I’m great. Now the people,” Alya says pointedly.  

Marinette sighs. “I… I mean, they all seem really nice, I just…don’t really know any of them yet. We haven’t really had any down time.”

“Anyone stand out to you?”

“Yes,” she grumbles. “Chloé.”

Alya raises her eyebrows. “Whoa, okay, that doesn’t sound like a good stand out.”

Marinette sighs again. “When I said they all seem really nice, I was not including Chloé as part of ‘all.’”

Alya shoves her journals aside. “Okay, spill.”

“There’s not much _to_ spill,” Marinette admits. “She just…hates my guts. I mean, her father is the _mayor_ , Alya. The mayor of _Paris_. I don’t even know what I did to her, she just hates me!”

“She’s probably jealous because you’re ten times better than her at everything,” Alya says smugly.

“You’ve never seen her dance,” Marinette points out. “I guess she’s sort of mean to everyone, she just seems to focus it more in my direction than anyone else’s.” She drops her chin on her hand. “Maybe it’s because a majority of the kids here are rich and that’s how they got in. And I’m just… I’m just lucky. I’m good, but I’m not that good. Not good enough to deser—”

“If you finish that sentence I’m marching down there and kicking your butt,” Alya interrupts. “You _are_ good enough, Marinette. Do I need to remind you that you _won_ a _scholarship_ to this?”

“I know that! And I know I’m good it’s just—” Marinette drops her head on the table. “It doesn’t really feel like it, Alya. These people… They practice for hours and hours and take private lessons and have really _really_ nice shoes—”

“The quality of your shoes means nothing. If you can dance in them, that’s all that matters. Isn’t that what you said when I tried to loan you money to buy nicer stage ready ones?”

Marinette laughs into her arm. “I said that because I didn’t want you giving me money.”

“Your shoes may not be some fancy name brand and maybe they aren’t custom made, but they work just as well as any other pointe shoes. Fight me on this, Marinette. I’ll win. While I’m at it, I’ll fight this Chloé girl too.”

“Don’t do that.” Marinette lifts her head and brings herself back into her webcam’s view. “Her father could destroy you. Which is why I’m currently not fighting her.”

Alya rolls her eyes. “So what her dad’s the mayor of Paris? I will fight the entire world for you, Marinette. Don’t you forget it.”

“I’m having a hard time.”

“Good. And don’t doubt how good you are. You’re going to make it in the dance world. You’re at a ballet intensive all summer, girl, you’re going places.”

“So are all these other people,” Marinette reminds Alya. “Lots of people put this much work into dance.”

“None of them are _you._ ” Alya crosses her arms. “None of them are Marinette Dupain-Cheng, prima ballerina, costume designer, and supreme cupcake maker.”

Marinette smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You should be glad I let you go there and leave me cupcake-less all summer. Now come on, there’s got to be at least one other person who really stood out to you in a good way.”

She bites her lip and sits back in her seat. “Well…”

Alya’s eyes go wide. “Don’t you dare leave me hanging!”

Marinette laughs. “You already know him.”

Alya’s eyes somehow go wider. “No way.”

Marinette nods. “Uh huh.”

“No way!  _Adrien Agreste is there?!_ Oh my god!”

Marinette grins widely and nods before remembering what actually happened. She buries her face in her hands. “Yeah. I totally walked into him on the first day. Didn’t see him there, just walked in and BAM! Face full of Adrien’s chest.”

Alya squeals. “Oh my god, what is he like? Have you talked? Exchanged numbers? Exchanged spit?”

Marinette makes a face. “Ew, stop calling it that. And no. He seems really sweet and nice and oh my god he’s even more handsome in person. The only conversation we’ve had is me stuttering awfully while trying to apologize and him smiling and saying he should’ve been looking where he was going and his _leaps_ …” She drags her hands down her face. “Alya, being in the same room with him all day _killed me_.”

“You also get to see him in tights,” Alya says, wiggling her eyebrows.

Marinette covers her eyes. “ _Please_ , Alya! Besides! The boys wear sweats and shorts during rehearsals, just like we do over our tights. Can you not?”

Alya laughs. “Okay, okay, sorry. So your celebrity crush is there, and it’s killing you.”

“The only thing that was keeping me from being completely infatuated before was the fact that for all I knew, he could have been the biggest jerk on the face of the planet. But no, he’s got a heart of _gold_. He puts up with Chloé in such a polite manner— although they’re childhood friends, so I guess that’s fair.”

“Now you have three goals this summer,” Alya says. “1) Become the best ballerina in the universe. 2) Put Chloé in her place. Fight her. Either with incredible dancing or actual fists. 3) Win over Adrien Agreste.”

Marinette shakes her head. “No way. None of that’s going to happen, don’t even joke about it.”

Alya glares. “If you dream it, you can do it. And I’m not joking. This summer is for you to kick butt and get the guy.”

“Can we aim for just…talking to said guy before actually getting him?” Marinette asks.

Alya smiles. “There’s my girl. Now I promise to text you later, but I’ve got a shift at the bakery in ten minutes, so I have to go.”

Marinette glances at the time. “Good timing, my roommates should be back in a few minutes.”  

“Ooh, you didn’t mention roommates.” Alya links her fingers and rests her chin on them. “Tell me everything.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Don’t you have work?”

“Names, just the names,” Alya pleads. “Let me stalk them on the internet.”

Marinette groans. “Okay fine. I’ve got three roommates, Aurore Beauréal, who…seems nice enough. We haven’t really talked. And… ChloéandherfriendSabrina.” She watches Alya with large eyes.

Alya narrows her eyes. “Say that last part again? Slower?”

Marinette sighs. “Chloé and her friend Sabrina are my other roommates.”

Alya scowls. “Really?!”

Marinette runs a hand through her hair. “Don’t you have to get to the bakery? I know my parents like you but they also like you to be on time for work.”

“Watch your back, Mari,” Alya warns. “And your stuff. Like, lock it up or something. I know nothing about this girl, and I _know_ I don’t want her in the room with you. She’s going to try to smother you in your sleep or something, I can feel it.”

“She wouldn’t,” Marinette insists. “Now get to work!”

Alya huffs. “Fine. Be careful, please.”

“I will be. It’s a ballet camp, not Hogwarts or something. There’s no basilisk in the pipes or evil teacher trying to kill me. It’s just some girl who doesn’t like me.”

“Do you _want_ me to run through all the times Draco caused problems for Harry? Because I can and will.”

Marinette smiles. “Goodbye, Alya. Have fun at work,” she says, hanging up the call. She dries off her feet and dumps out the water, putting the bucket away as the door unlocks.

Aurore, who Chloé had dragged along shopping to ‘test her’ as she had said to Sabrina before they left, collapses face down on her bed. Chloé enters next, tossing her shoes in Sabrina’s general direction and announcing that she’ll be using the bathroom for the time being. Sabrina stumbles in with her arms full of bags and boxes, catching Chloé’s thrown shoes in one of the bags on her arm.

“Here, let me help,” Marinette says, grabbing the top few boxes.

Sabrina gives her a thankful smile and carries them to the closet. They stack up the boxes and bags and close the door before the tower can fall over.

Marinette’s whole being aches. She isn’t used to this much ballet. This much dance, yes, but not ballet specifically, and not this much technique. She misses her jazz and contemporary classes. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for musical theater. Or even tap. You either love or hate tap and Marinette has always leaned towards the latter. But to be able to buffalo turn and pull back her way across a floor instead of doing countless assemblés...

She plugs her headphones into her phone and plays a dance mix Alya made her. Not ballet music, not any specific dance music, just music you can _dance_ to. She sits down on her bed with her sketchbook and doodles costume ideas as she nods her head to the beat.

Her mind wanders to the showcase they’ll be doing at the end of the summer. One of the best parts of this program specifically is the showcase. It makes this program unique and special and a better opportunity than most. There’ll be industry people there and talent scouts and people from ballet companies. They’ll do group dances and selective solos and a few partner dances. And this is it, this is Marinette’s chance to start getting noticed. Her first real chance to get into the dance world.

She hums along to her music as she draws the swoop of a skirt. Alya’s right. This is her dream, and she’s going to prove to Chloé that she belongs here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was so little ballet/things that actually happened in this chapter ^^; (but I can hope you can understand why Mari is a little less confident than usual)
> 
> Ok, so the first chapter is being uploaded now, the second will be posted later today, and the third will be posted tomorrow. Mostly because they're all super filler and intro-y and nothing happens. And then after that this will upload around once a week? I say hesitantly....
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://sadrien.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) (and you can reblog this there!) <3


	2. plie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh the response I've gotten in just the first hours of posting this is so amazing?? Thank you all so much omg. 
> 
> Note: I am switching POVs for each chapter! Meaning this chapter is Adrien and Nino! Chapter 3 marks the end of the major build section, so we're almost there!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Are you judging me?” Adrien asks.

Nino nods and raises his styrofoam coffee cup to the screen. The steam fogs up the webcam. “I’m always judging you, man.”

Adrien scoffs. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“You are drinking green tea instead of coffee. You know I always judge you when you’re drinking tea when you clearly need caffeine.”

“The tea that’s in this room is better than the coffee,” Adrien insists. “Trust me, I tried to coffee. It was _not_ _good_.”

“Sure,” Nino drawls. “Just don’t pass out at the barre on me.”

Adrien narrows his eyes and takes a long sip of his tea.

Nino does the same with his coffee.

“I think this might have more caffeine than your coffee, actually,” Adrien says, looking down into his cup.

Nino shrugs. “Enjoy your weird leaf water.”

“Enjoy your bean water. By the way, sorry I couldn’t talk yesterday. We barely had time to breathe, and then Nathalie decided she needed to send me an entire document on my scheduling for this summer.” Adren runs a hand through his hair. Like he needed _another_ schedule on top of the two others he already has. He’s starting to think that Nathalie just really likes trying out different ways of color coding or something.

Nino makes a face. “Sounds like fun. I’m sure you had the time of your life reading it.”

“Oh yeah, skimming it was a blast. How are things back home?” Adrien wishes he were back home. Mostly because it’s been one night and he already misses his own bed.

“Boring,” Nino says. “Literally nothing is happening. Which is why you aren’t allowed to leave me alone here. Who am I supposed to yell at while playing video games? The cat?”

“I’d rather be home with you,” Adrien admits. He also misses sitting on Nino’s couch and trying to avoid getting punched in the face while playing video games. “I’m getting sick of piano music and it’s been two days.” His life has always been 90% ballet, but this…this is pushing it just a little bit.  

“Says the piano player.” Nino frowns and tips his coffee upside down. A single drip falls out. “Aw man.”

Adrien laughs. “I think you need more coffee. And you know what I mean. But, I mostly got out of piano for the summer. Just…replaced it to a lot more ballet.” He shrugs. “It could be worse.”

“Man, your dad has you under his thumb.” Nino shakes his head. “Tell me you’ve at least mentioned doing other dances this year.”

Adrien spins his chair around slowly. “Uh…about that…”

Nino groans. “I take that as a no?”

Adrien runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just… Hard.”

“I know,” Nino says. “I get that. But man, you’re almost an adult. He can’t control your life forever.”

“He can try,” Adrien grumbles. “There is no time to have a conversation like that. I don’t see him, you know that.” The last time Adrien had a conversation with his dad that was more than five minutes long seems like forever ago. And said conversations never have anything to do with what Adrien _wants_ , they’re about what Adrien has to _do._ Go to this audition, this rehearsal, this shoot. A costume fitting here, a new teacher there, more private lessons on the side.

“I _know_ I know that.” Nino takes off his hat and tosses it out of frame. “Send him an email or something.”

“That he’ll immediately delete.”

“I love talking about how much your dad sucks.”

“Try living with him.” Is it living with him if the majority of their communications go through his father’s secretary? They technically live in the same building, so yeah. Technically they live together.

Nino shrugs. “If all else fails, then we can sneak you out of ballet class and into one of my classes.”

“ _Your_ classes?” Adrien laughs. “I thought you said I was awful at hip hop.” As much as he’d love to take up Nino’s offer, there’s something holding him back from doing so. And it’s the simple fact that ballet is the last real connection to his father. Figures.

“Practice makes perfect, dude,” Nino says seriously. “If you work at it and loosen up a little, you’ll get it.”

“And one day I’ll learn to really pop it, lock it, polka dot it?” Adrien asks.

“I withdraw my invitation. And my friendship. You are dead to me.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “If that were true, our friendship wouldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds.”

“Fair enough.” Nino leans on his elbows. “So, how is stuffy rich kid ballet camp so far?”

Adrien shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”

“Okay, what about the people?” Nino raises his eyebrows. “Because Chloé has already tweeted about how much she hates everyone like twenty times.”

Adrien frowns. “Why do you follow her on twitter? You don’t even like her enough to listen to me talk to her.”

“Because it’s amusing?” Nino picks up his phone. “I get all the drama that doesn’t actually exist times ten. It’s like watching a really terrible soap opera. I both love and hate it, it’s one of the true gifts the universe has given us.”

Adrien raises his eyebrows. “Right…”

“Her not so subtweets about you are ridiculous and the best part of my day,” Nino says. “Honestly, I’m kind of tempted to turn on notifications for her.”

“ _Day_ , as in, she tweets about me daily?” Adrien has no idea when his relationship with Chloé went from friends to…whatever this is. All he really knows is that it’s kind of getting uncomfortable. “Why? What does she say?”

Nino types something out on his phone. “Look, man. If you want to see what Chloé tweets, maybe you should use twitter.”

“I would, but—”

“But that requires a whole other PR team, yeah yeah yeah.” Nino rolls his eyes. “I’ll find some good ones and send them to you. Like I said about your dad having you under his thumb—”

“Didn’t you want to know about stuffy rich kid ballet camp?” Adrien interrupts. He knows Nino means well, but at this exact moment, he really can’t handle talking about this. Maybe in a few days, once he’s settled in and accepted the fact that _this_ is his entire summer.

“Well duh, who wouldn’t?” Nino puts his phone down. “I’m all ears. How bad is everyone? Regular stuffy rich kids or super stuffy rich kids?”

“Neither, actually,” Adrien admits. “Besides Chloé, I know nothing about anyone’s socioeconomic statuses, just that they could afford this intesive, so I don’t know how accurate ‘rich kids’ is. And most of the people are pretty nice from what I can tell.”

“Oh yeah, Chloé is an absolute sweetheart,” Nino deadpans.

“Be nice.”

“I am nice!” Nino protests.

Adrien raises his eyebrows.

Nino holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, man, I am a great person. But really, the people don’t suck?”

Adrien shakes his head. “No, they don’t suck. I’m sure Chloé is just being Chloé.”

“Anyone stick out? Particularly cool, particularly meh?” Nino asks. “Besides Chloé, that is.”

“Not really. …well…” Adrien thinks about it. He’s ‘lucky’ enough to not have any roommates, and there hasn’t been any downtime yet. No one other than Chloé has really said anything to him during classes, in fact, most people have sort of kept their distance. He’d been hoping that maybe people wouldn’t care about his supposed famousness, but apparently not. His father being a partner definitely isn’t helping. Now he’s switched to hoping that people stop caring about it by the end of the week.

Nino waves a hand to snap Adrien out of his daze. “And?”  

Adrien shakes his head. “I haven’t really had time to talk to anyone yet. Not even Chloé. The only person I’ve really interacted with outside of class that doesn’t work here is this girl who ran into me.”

Nino wiggles his eyebrows.

“ _No,_ ” Adrien says. “She actually ran into me. During check-in on the first day. She crashed into me, sort of apologized, and bolted. But she seemed nice.” He wishes he had been able to say something more to her, she had seemed nice but she had also seemed nervous. Nervous and slightly terrified.

“Does this mystery girl have a name?” Nino asks.

“Marinette, although she didn’t actually tell me that, she answered to it during attendance.” Adrien shrugs. “I’m sure as everyone settles in I’ll get to know more people.”

“I’d hope,” Nino says. “Otherwise, you’re going to have one sucky summer. I can’t always be video chatting you for moral support.”

—«·»—

Adrien really wishes Nino was here for moral support.

And yes, this time it actually is Chloé’s fault.

Adrien no longer has a problem with being treated like a celebrity. He’s used to it, he’s grown up in this environment. The side effects of having parents famous not only in the dance world, but semi-famous in the rest of the world as well. And Chloé’s been fairly constant throughout his life. They’ve been in the same classes and dances, she’s been to dinners and slept over in guest rooms. But this is a little too much.

He pries her off of him. “I’m gross and sweaty right now, Chloé. Maybe later?” Or never. Preferably never. He doesn’t want to deal with this, his feet hurt and he wants to go up to his room and never move again. That’s what’s preferable right now.

Chloé pouts and presses another kiss to his cheek. “Fine. See you later, Adrikins,” she says with a wink.

Adrien forces a smile. “Yup. Later.” With his dad on his back, later is going to inevitably and unfortunately happen a lot sooner than he’d like. What he wouldn’t give to be able to do what Nino says and just walk up to him and say, ‘this is what I want, you can’t run my entire life.’ He turns around to grab his bag, crashing into someone and nearly knocking them over. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he apologizes as he grabs their arm to keep them from falling.

Marinette freezes as she looks up at him. “Oh. A-adrien! Again. Sorry, I’m really sorry I just—”

“It’s fine,” he insists. “And mostly my fault. I really do need to watch where I’m going.”

She gives him a half smile. “O-okay. I’m still sorry though.”

Adrien remembers Nino’s reminder to actually attempt to make friends and not go into his ‘stoic loner dancer’ mode. Whatever that is. And the other day he wished he had said more to Marinette, so now is as good of a chance as ever. “Good job in class today, by the way!” he says as cheerfully as he can.

Marinette turns pink. “T-thanks! You did too. Good. You did really good which isn’t surprising at all I mean—” She bites her lip. “But, um…”

“Yes?” he encourages her to go on.

She takes a quick breath and mumbles, “I have a suggestion that might help you with your turns? Like you’re doing really well and you definitely don’t have to listen to anything I say because I’m just me but I struggled with turning for a while and your turns were a little, I don’t know, loose? today so like maybe try snapping your head and arms a little faster because that’s what helped me? I mean I’m sure you’ve already been told to keep your core tight so maybe trying changing that instead? But that’s just me so it might not work for you I just… Yeah.”  

Adrien blinks in surprise. “T-thanks. I’ll have to try it.”

Marinette nods and clutches her bag tightly. “It was nice talking to you, seeyoulaterIhavetogobye.”

Adrien watches her as she nearly runs out of the room. That was unexpected but…nice. He hadn’t been expecting Marinette to say anything like that. She looked like she was about to wilt the entire time, but she’d still said it. Solid advice too. For some reason, his turns have felt a little off balance and uncontrolled lately, especially as he’s done more of them. His triples still felt fairly solid. Past four? …yikes.  

He wishes that the conversation was longer still. Just a brief moment with Marinette is so different than talking to most other people. He can’t help but keep thinking about her. He wants to get to know her more, she’s of the few people who have actually reached out to him. Like he’s a real person and not some perfect dancer. At least partially, if that’s what all the stuttering and blushing is because of. But there’s hope for an actual, legitimate friendship with Marinette and his mind keeps being drawn to her. What does she like to talk about that’s not dance? What kind of music does she like? Red or green? Coffee or tea?

Later, when Plagg says, “Wow, kid. Did you actually figure out how turning works?” Adrien smiles and reminds himself to thank Marinette the next time he sees her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will be uploaded sometime tomorrow! When, I'm not entirely sure, but at some point!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://buglad.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) (and you can reblog this there!) <3


	3. tendu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gazes out window* When will the Tele-Quebec episode return from war...
> 
> Anyway!! I'm literally so blessed to have gotten such a response to this fic so far, I'm so glad you all like it! There's a few ballet moves in this (very minor, you don't need to understand them), so there are links to videos/pictures in the notes!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

“HE COMPLIMENTED ME ALYA!” Marinette whispers shrieks. “He told _me_ I did good!”

Alya smiles smugly and crosses her arms. “Of course he did! You’re _you_ , Mari. You always do good.”

“But this is _Adrien Agreste_ we’re talking about,” Marinette says. “He said it to me _directly_ , he _touched my arm!_ ”

“And did you return said compliment?” Alya asks. “Or did you turn into a stuttering mess and just stare at him?”

“Of course I returned it!” Marinette’s face falls. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh _no._

“Mari? Mari, what is that face? That is not a good face.”

Marinette shakes her head. “I just… I mean… I gave him a compliment back! But then I may or may not have corrected him on his turns.” She groans and buries her head in her hands.

“…Okay…? I don’t think I’m getting what the problem is here,” Alya admits.

Marinette lifts her head. “Alya, come on. I _corrected him_.” She gives Alya a harsh look. How can she not see that Marinette’s world is current falling to pieces around her?

Alya shrugs. “And? Don’t you give other dancers corrections? Don’t they give you corrections?”

“Yes but—”

Alya rubs the bridge of her nose. “He’s just another dancer, Mari. I bet he probably appreciates you giving him a correction. I bet he appreciates you treating him like an _actual person_ ,” she says, gesturing with her hands for emphasis.

Marinette sighs and blows her bangs out of her face. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I’m right, I’m always right.” Alya crosses her arms again. “So try not to act like he’s some perfect person.”

“He’s—”

“Not perfect!” Alya interrupts. “You corrected him today, Mari. That means he was doing something _wrong_. You’re never going to get anywhere with him if you don’t think of him as a person. Nowhere you want to be, that is.”

Marinette sighs again. “I know. I just… I’ll work on it, I promise.”

“That’s all I ask. I mean, besides, would Adrien in real life ever live up to Adrien in your head?”

The Adrien in Marinette’s head is wonderful and flawless and…horribly unrealistic. Alya _is_ right. The real Adrien that she _barely knows_ does make mistakes and yawned during class when the teacher wasn’t watching. His hair sticks out and she hadn’t been the only one to stutter through a conversation.

“You’re going to say something like I need to get to know the real Adrien Agreste before I can ever truly like him or something, aren’t you?” Marinette asks.

Alya smiles. “Marinette, you’ve taken the words right from my mouth.”

“Which…means that I have to actually talk to him again.” Marinette groans. “Are you sure that I can’t just…watch from afar and hope for the best?”

“The best is you and Adrien ending up together,” Alya says. “So _yes_ , you have to ‘actually talk to him’. It shouldn’t be that hard Mari. If he’s as nice as you say then I’m sure he won’t mind talking to you.”

“I hope not,” Marinette murmurs.   

“Are you almost done?” Chloé shouts, banging on the bathroom door.

Marinette sighs and rolls her eyes at the door. “Sorry, Al. I’ve got to go, Chloé needs the bathroom.”

Alya pulls a face. “Great. I should work on my next article anyway. I’ll text you later tonight, so be prepared.”

Marinette holds up her phone. “Always am. Have fun, love you.”

“Love you too!” Alya blows her a kiss and hangs up.

Marinette stands up from the toilet seat with a sigh, closing her laptop and tucking it under her arm. She’s resigned herself to video chatting Alya in the bathroom whenever she can. She wouldn’t mind if Aurore were in the room while they talk, Aurore is nice enough and probably wouldn’t purposefully try to listen in or bother them, but Chloé and Sabrina? Not happening. Ever. They’re almost always around, and that means no time to talk to Alya. It’s wearing Marinette thin, she needs to be able to talk to her best friend and see her face.

Chloé gives Marinette a weird look when leaves the bathroom. Marinette shrugs it off. It’s been a week, and she feels like she’s mostly immune to Chloé’s glares at this point. Some of the things she says on the other hand…

Instead of dwelling on Chloé and how much some of her words sting, Marinette curls up with her sketchbook and some music. Sabrina is on the phone with her dad in the hallway, Aurore is out with one of her friends, and Chloé is in the bathroom. For the first time in what feels like forever, Marinette is alone. She relaxes into the couch and flips through her sketchbook, touching up some designs and changing others. She doesn’t feel like making anything new at this second, she just wants to doodle mindlessly.

If one of the blank models for a Prince Siegfried costume becomes Adrien, Marinette flips the page before she notices.

—«·»—

If Marinette has learned anything in all her years of dance, it’s that stagefright is nothing compared to going across the floor alone. She’s learned to dread just going across the floor in general. In performances, people _want_ to see you do brilliantly and land everything perfectly. They aren’t usually looking for mistakes. Going across the floor is like being slowly dissected by every single person in the room. Usually it isn’t that bad. Usually she’s comfortable with the people she’s in class with and knows where she lies ability wise.

This is not comfortable. It’s better than it was a week ago, but Chloé’s looks feel worse when Marinette’s dancing, and she doesn’t know how much everyone will judge her for mistakes. Maybe they won’t and maybe they’ll shred her to pieces.

Marinette likes to consider herself a very confident and sure person. She’s proud of the fact that she isn’t afraid to speak her mind or be one of the people at the very front of the room when they’re dancing in the center. But right now, she’s maybe a little bit terrified. Her heart is racing and she’s shaking slightly, especially when holding positions.

Shaking plus pointe equals broken ankles.

It takes all Marinette has not to fall over on simple chaîné turns across the floor. And even slightly stumbling on _chaînés_ at an intensive for _ballet_ that she _won a scholarship to_ would be really embarrassing.

She freezes in the corner after finishing the combination, holding first arabesque for a count of three before lowering her leg and moving out of the way, pressing her back against the barre and letting out a sigh of relief. Tikki had thrown out a few corrections when she’d crossed, but no more than anyone else and nothing that seemed too serious. That was good. This was good.

Marinette wishes they could go back to the variation they’d been working on the day before. It’s so much easier when they’re working on choreography and variations instead of technique. Yes, better technique leads to better dancing in general, but Marinette sort of stopped caring about that around two hours ago.

She also wishes for a water break.

They’re being worked to the bone. She understands that they need to decide on solos and duets and group dances and parts and whatnot so they can start working on the dances for the showcase and they want to see what everyone can do, but she’d also love to not die of dehydration.

—«·»—

“Marinette!”

Marinette stops chugging her water to breathe and look up at see Adrien. She’s really glad she wasn’t still drinking, because that would’ve ended in choking. “A-adrien! Hi!”

“I just wanted to thank you,” he says, sitting down next to her and crossing his legs.

She caps her water bottle. Adrien Agreste finding her after they’ve just finished separate dance classes wasn’t something she could even dream up. Adding him thanking her to that situation puts everything in an entirely different ballpark. A ballpark on the moon. Or maybe Neptune. “Thank m-me? Why?”

Adrien smiles widely and whoops, there goes her heart. “Your advice on turns? It really helped. So thank you.”

Marinette hopes her face is still red enough from class that he can’t tell how badly she’s blushing. “Of course, happy to help.” She reminds herself that Adrien is a regular teenage boy. Who just so happens to be gorgeous and famous and per—

She can hear her mental Alya yelling at her. Get to know the Real Adrien. Become friends. “S-so, are you excited to start showcase dances in two weeks?”

Adrien shrugs. “I guess so.”

“Right,” she says, playing with a strand of hair that fell loose from her bun, “you’re probably used to all of this.”

“A little bit, yeah.” He gives her a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes the way the first one did. “There’s still the same rush of performing, though.” The twinkle returns to his eyes, and it lifts her heart and makes her feel like she’s floating. “Are you excited?”

Marinette sighs and leans head back against the wall. “Uh, well, try terrified.” She squeezes her eyes shut. That was definitely not something she had wanted to say to Adrien ever, but things don’t always go according to plan, and sometimes you end up sitting with your crush on the floor. “I-I don’t do really audition for parts? Like I’ve only auditioned for a role once before.”

“Really?”

She braces herself and risks a glance at Adrien. He doesn’t look like he’s going to laugh at her or realize she’s not worth it and walk away. That’s definitely better than what she was expecting. “Well…yeah.”

He pushes himself back and leans against the wall. “Huh.”

“Is that a…bad thing?” Marinette asks hesitantly.

Adrien shakes his head quickly. “Not at all! It’s just weird to think about, because I’ve been going to auditions for forever.”

“You- you don’t seem thrilled by the fact.”

“Audition nerves don’t usually change either,” he admits. “But the hype around them sort of does. Until about half an hour before, during, and then up until finding out. I guess I’m just so…used to all of this that it seems weird to me that other people aren’t.”

“Oh.” Marinette thinks about it. “Well…this can’t be an entirely new experience for you…but are you liking it so far?”

It takes a moment for Adrien to answer. She wonders what he’s thinking, what makes this question difficult, if he’s going to tell her the truth.

“It’s…nice,” he says. “I’ve had a surprising amount of fun so far. You?”

“I love it,” Marinette breathes. She doesn’t even think before saying. The answer leaves her in a rush, soft and breathy like a secret. Despite everything, all her little fears that keeping building up, her homesickness, her soreness, _Chloé—_  She really does love it more than she thought she was going to when she was sick with anxiety the first few days. “I’ve always loved dance,” she adds quickly, “but I’ve never done exclusively ballet, or even done a quarter of this much ballet or been this involved and immersed in the dance world and it’s just…” She shrugs. “I love it.” It’s the best way she can say it. She keeps talking to try and sound less sentimental. “Especially doing variations. My inner five year old was freaking out when Tikki taught us the Bluebird variation yesterday.”

Adrien laughs. “I can relate. Doing it with Plagg was just…incredible. Like a dream. I remember seeing Sleeping Beauty when I was little, and now I’m _dancing_ it.”

The last of the other dancers in the room are clearing out. Chloé had shoved her way out of the room as soon as class had ended (fourteen minutes late, which Chloé complained about very loudly as she left) and all Marinette can think is that she is so relieved that neither she nor Adrien had to deal with her today.

Marinette doesn’t want to stop talking to Adrien, not yet when she’s finally _talking_ to him and getting closer to knowing him, but she doesn’t want to keep him. “Do you have to leave?”

Adrien leans forward to get a look at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got a private lesson with Plagg in…about twenty minutes. But I’m guessing you’re leaving soon?”

“To go sit in my room and do basically nothing,” Marinette admits. “I can stay a little longer, i-if you want the company, that is.”

Adrien smiles brightly, and Marinette knows there’s no way she’s going back to her room. “I’d love that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [chaîné turns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyMSLptyyYE) (honestly, it's just the first six seconds)  
> [first arabesque](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ae/e6/91/aee691a3d1bf3298360deedb571fae87.jpg)  
>  (Also, Prince Siegfried is one of the names for the prince in Swan Lake)
> 
> Chapter 4 will be upload next Sunday! So hopefully updates once a week? I'm working on chapter 6 right now, so we'll see? I'm on [tumblr](http://buglad.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) (and you can reblog this there!) <3


	4. dégagé

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need like emotional support. The season is _over_. What am I supposed to do with myself now?? I've been listening to the music from _the scene_ on repeat. I might need help. 
> 
> This chapter was hard because it's the first one with a lot of dance, but really you don't need to know what's happening. I tried not to use a lot of terms or really focus on the actual moves because I didn't want it to be too confusing BUT, the dances they do are actually from a ballet! They're the variations from the Bluebird pas de deux in Sleeping Beauty! [THIS](https://youtu.be/kSGX3zjkLfw?t=3m22s) is the one Adrien's doing (and the full pdd because I couldn't find an separate video) and [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cijs8y3NclI) is Mari's! 
> 
> I hope the week wait was worth it. Enjoy :)

Adrien flops onto his bed with a sigh. He’s done the same motion every afternoon since this intensive started, stumbling back to his room completely drained and exhausted and laying facedown on his bed until he can gather the energy to call Nino.

This time, he’s smiling into his pillow. It’s so cliché, but he doesn’t care. Marinette had waited until he had gone in to work with Plagg, watching his first runthrough of his unfinished solo from the doorway as Plagg eyed her. She waved goodbye with a smile, clutching the strap of her bag tightly.

Tonight, he can finally tell Nino that he’s made a real friend. And Nino will roll his eyes and say ‘it’s about time.’

They didn’t talk about much, and they really only talked about ballet, but Marinette gracefully danced around topics that he didn’t want to breech. He didn’t even have to say anything, she just seemed to _know_ what to avoid. There was still a slight hesitation and awkwardness to her, a bit of shyness that hasn't faded just yet. It was in her occasional slight stutter and light blush when she left. But she’s so genuine and open and easy to talk to…

He has no idea if Marinette will go out of her way to talk to him, but he’s willing to do it for her. She’d managed to slip little things about herself into their conversation, and he wants more. He doesn’t know if it’s because he can count the number of real friends he has on one hand or because Marinette is genuinely that captivating, but he really doesn’t care either way.

* * *

“You’re still here,” Adrien says in surprise.

Marinette drops her leg. “Adrien!” The lights in the room are dim and she has headphones in. She lowers her arms to yank them out.

“I didn’t think anyone else had anything after classes today,” he admits. He’d gone and grabbed something to eat before returning to work on his solo. Again. He accepted the fact that his life is in the dance studio years and years ago.

“Oh I don’t,” Marinette says quickly. “Technically.  I just wanted to work on something from class today, so Tikki said I could stay a little longer if I wanted. But if you need the room you can totally have it, I don’t mind.”

“There are multiple rooms,” he says with a smile. “I can use any of those.”

“W-well you used this one yesterday, so…” Marinette shrugs. “Maybe you have an attachment to this room or something.”

“Not particularly.” Adrien drops his bag. “What are you working on?”

“The Bluebird variation,” Marinette says, flicking one arm out and then the other, as if she’s starting the dance. “I fumbled over some of the footwork in class, especially on the turning jumps at the end, and I wanted to fix it before tomorrow.”  

“Can I see it?” There’s something about the way that Marinette talks about dance that is so incredibly captivating. Because of the schedule, he’s only ever seen her dance during technique classes. If this is how she talks about dance, what is it like when she actually dances?

Marinette blinks. “Wha- Show you?”

Adrien nods. “Yeah, I haven’t seen it yet.”

“It’s the same dance as it always is,” Marinette says quickly.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen it, and I’ve never seen you dance it.”

Marinette stares at him.

Adrien is the first person to admit that he’s not good at social interaction. And is also the first to mentally hit himself for clearly making someone uneasy. “I can go first if you’d like,” he offers quickly. “In the actual pas de deux, my variation goes first anyway.”

She nods slowly. “I-if you want to.”

He smiles. “I could use the practice as much as you.”

Marinette rolls her eyes so quickly he isn’t sure he didn’t imagine it. “Okay, sure. Do you know how to work the speakers in here? Because I can’t figure them out for the life of me.”

“Plagg taught me the other day.” He pulls his phone out and plugs it into the speakers, pushing the seemingly random but actually magical order of buttons. “Can you start the music for me?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” She takes his phone from him. “Just, ah, let me know when you’re ready. You know.”

Adrien gets into position and takes a breath. "Go ahead." The music swells, and he counts himself in.

The variation is mostly jumping and leaping. He _is_ the Bluebird, after all. At the very top of each jump, there's this moment of _flight_. And for those brief moments, it's so incredibly easy to remember why he loves ballet. Why he loves _this._ He's done this variation so many times the past few days that he barely has to think about the actual steps. He just tries to get higher and higher and finally take off.

Sliding down to one knee after the tour en l'air, he momentarily mourns the feeling of his feet on the ground.

Marinette claps enthusiastically from her corner with the stereo. "Beautiful," she insists. "Like you were flying."

Adrien wishes. He was so close. He stands up and smiles as he catches his breath. "Thanks! It's not perfect, but it's getting better."

She shakes her head. "I'm really not sure how you expect me to go after that."

"Like this," Adrien says, standing in tendu with his arms crossed in front of him. He transfers his weight to to his back leg and flicks out both his arms. He wasn't kidding when he said he hadn't seen the dance recently, he genuinely has almost no idea how it goes from here on out. He pulls his arms behind his back in a distinct Swan Lake shape and flaps them a little. "Exactly like this."

Marinette laughs. It's bright and musical and some part of Adrien decides that he needs to make this girl laugh as much as humanly possible. "That isn't it at _all,_ " she says. She copies him, flapping her arms. "Wrong Tchaikovsky, Odette."

"Then maybe you should show me how it's done," he says with a smirk. He opens his arms. "The floor is yours, my lady."

She opens her mouth as if to say something, but shakes her head and places herself in position. She closes her eyes and nods, and Adrien starts the music.

When Marinette opens her eyes, transferring to her back leg and flicking out each hand, Adrien is immediately entranced. She shoots a smile in his general direction when she pauses with each arabesque, drawing her hand back to her ear and lengthening her neck. She bourées to the corner, light as the flute music.

Sometimes you watch a dancer and know that they're born for a part. It's not so much that Marinette was born for the part of Princess Florina, but more of the fact that Marinette was simply born to dance. The soft smile that crosses her face, the way she holds herself.

He has to remind himself to clap when she finishes in the corner with a hand raised to her ear. "I don't know what you were worried about," he insists. "You were beautiful."

"I messed up the arms for the échappés again. Second allongé, not first. And then up to fifth,” she mumbles.

"It's not like tonight's opening night," Adrien points out. “You’ve been working on it for a few days in a pointe class, you aren’t dancing the role.”

Marinette sighs, the tension leaving her shoulders. “You're probably right.”

“I know I’m right,” Adrien says with a smirk.

Her eye roll is slow enough this time that he’s able to really catch it. “I can still do better, I _know it._ ”

“Then I should let you practice,” he says, motioning to the door. “Have fun.”

“You too,” she murmurs, rubbing her arm.

—«·»—

“Consider this,” Plagg says, propping his elbow on his knee, “try _emoting_.”

Adrien scowls. “Thanks. Really helpful.”

Plagg shrugs. “You’re welcome.” He uncrosses his legs and drops down from where he had been perched on the barre. “But you know what, it _actually might help_. Surprise!”

“I’ll emote later,” Adrien says. “When I actually have the mental capacity to care.”

“No guarantee you’ll have the mental capacity the day of the show, kid.” Plagg leans against the wall. “Better start practicing now.”

Adrien gives him the flattest look he can manage.

Plagg throws up his hands. “Whoa, okay, you’re emoting enough. Although moody, angsty teen isn’t really what we’re going for here.”

“Plagg—”

“Jeez, Adrien, just talk to your dad.”

Adrien decides that this is too much to deal with while standing up. He drops to the floor and stretches his legs out, pointing and flexing his toes. “I’m trying.”

Plagg joins him on the floor. “Try harder. It’s depressing watching you dance sometimes. And not when I’m meant to be feeling depressed.”

Adrien sighs. “I don’t know, Plagg. I just— I like ballet. I _do_. And there are still times when I really really love it. It’s just… I want to take at least a break from ballet, but I don’t… My dad wants me to do this—”

“And you want to please your dad.” Plagg nods. “Understandable, but boy are you not happy right now.”

Adrien twists away to stretch out his back, but him and Plagg both know it’s just because he doesn’t want to meet Plagg’s eyes.

Plagg scoffs. “Okay, not the time then.” He grunts as he gets to his feet. “Finish up, Tikki and I are closing up in the next half hour. Check the other rooms, will you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Adrien mumbles into his knees. as he leans forward in a stretch.

—«·»—

Adrien pushes the door to the last studio open. “Hey, just wanted to let you know that the studio is closing soo—” He cuts himself off when he realizes there is no way Marinette is hearing him. Her back is to him and she has headphones in. And she’s not doing ballet. She strikes a pose and rolls back her shoulders, and Adrien is so jealous that she can just _do this_.

He clears his throat loudly and knocks on the doorframe.

She spins around, yanking her headphones out at the same time. Her face is red and she’s breathless and—

Marinette has bangs.

He’s only ever seen her with her hair pulled back tightly for class. But Marinette has _bangs_. They frame her face and her eyes and suit her so well and he has to blink a few times to shake off the surprise.

“Yeah?” she asks, tucking her bangs behind her ear.

“Uh, Plagg just wanted me to let everyone know that we’re closing up in like ten minutes.”

Marinette gives him a hesitant smile. “O-oh, thanks. I’ll be out in like a minute. Two— Quickly. I’ll be out quickly.”

“They won’t turn the lights off you or anything,” Adrien adds.

“I don’t want to get in the way,” Marinette says, bending over to grab her bag. It’s only then that Adrien realizes that her hair isn’t in it’s usual neat bun, it’s thrown up in a messy bun held together by a few twists of a hair tie. He wonders what it looks like down.

“I’ll shut down everything in here,” he says when she moves toward the stereo.

“No no, it’s alright I used the room.” She flaps her hand as she talks.

“It’s sort of confusing.”

Marinette bites her lip. “Okay, yeah no, you can do that. I don’t… I’ll probably break something, sorry.”

Adrien gives her a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, I was planning on doing it anyway.”

She twists the bottom of her shirt. “If you’re sure…”

“It’s my pleasure.”

—«·»—

Adrien insists that Marinette leaves, saying she needs sleep after having been in the studio for so long and this will take a few minutes. She shakes her head, but leaves in a sort of a whirlwind without much protest. It really only takes a few seconds to put everything away and turn everything off, but Adrien likes to stand in the darkened dance studio for just a few minutes. Just breathing it all in and _remembering_.

He can remember the way the costumes sparkled. How his father smiled and his mother’s eyes twinkled. If he strains, he can still hear the orchestral music. He’s still dancing around his room with his mother afterwards. She rises up on releve and leaps across the room, chaîné-ing around the table and scooping him up in her arms. He remembers loving this.

Adrien’s entire being aches.

Plagg nods to him as he leaves the studio. He’s sitting on top of the front desk as Tikki sits behind it, spinning in slow circles in the desk chair, fingering a necklace and humming to herself with her eyes closed.

Adrien is unlocking his room — his _special, separate_ room — when he hears soft singing. He looks up to see Marinette a little ways down the hallway. She’s humming Swan Lake as she balancés to her room, doing rond de jambes as she unlocks the door.

Adrien smiles to himself. His mother used to sing as she danced around the house. Seeing Marinette dance down the hallway makes him feel giddy and like the butterflies in his stomach are getting ready to take flight.

Marinette freezes and glances over to him. She must’ve felt him watching her. Adrien gives her a sheepish wave.

Marinette turns bright red, waving back awkwardly with a forced smile before quickly ducking inside her room.

“How was today?” Nino asks a little while later.

Adrien rests his chin in his hand with a soft smile. “It was good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus Adrien getting thrown off by Mari's hair begins....
> 
> I really love writing Plagg? Like I don't really know how to, but he's fun
> 
> Anyway, the response to this fic has just been mindblowing, thank you!! I promise I'll get to comments eventually! :) I'm on [tumblr](http://buglad.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) (and you can reblog this there!) <3


	5. rond de jambe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay early update! I won't be home much tomorrow and I have so much homework and an essay, so... 
> 
> This chapter is the final straggler of the Filler Chapters, a mistake on my part. When I did the outline I did _something_ and ended up copy-pasting ch4 or something and skipping 5 entirely. Deleting this would mean changing the POVs for the rest of the fic, and that wouldn't work so...more filler? :/ Hopefully ch6 makes up for it. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)
> 
>  **EDIT:** I'm so so so so sorry about the whole missing ending thing. It kept getting deleted while I was editing and I thought I fixed it but apparently not. It should be there now, sorry!!

“Coffee?” Adrien asks, motioning to Marinette’s styrofoam cup.

She squeezes it a little tighter so she doesn’t do something like drop it or dump it on him. “Hot chocolate,” she corrects.

He raises an eyebrow. “During summer?”

“Is there a wrong time for chocolate and sugar?” Marinette shoots back.

Adrien shrugs and drops his bag on the ground. “I guess not.” He sits down, immediately folding into a stretch.

“I don’t like caffeine before class,” she adds quickly. “It makes me too jittery.” And the last thing she needs right now is to be bouncing off the walls when she's supposed to be perfecting her fondues.

“Understandable.” He smiles up at her. Her stomach attempts an aerial. “I usually can’t get out of bed without it though. I’ll actually fall asleep while doing fondues.”

“You mean you wouldn’t anyway?” Marinette asks. “I think I could do most of the barre warm up in my sleep.”

“Do it.” Adrien slides into a split. “I don’t think anyone would notice, because I’m pretty sure everyone _is_ asleep during barre. That’s what happens when rehearsals start at seven in the morning.”

She groans and sits down next to him, crossing her legs and holding her cocoa with both hands. “I could be sleeping right now,” she murmurs into her cup. She shuts her eyes and breathes in the steam.

“Adrien!” Chloé practically shouts.

Marinette squeezes her eyes shut tighter. It is too early to deal with this. This is why she preferably gets out of her room before Chloé is awake. Even if you take away Chloe’s bitterness, mean temper, and sometimes downright cruel comments, she is still so loud and _present._ Marinette likes to think she's present as well. Marinette generally likes present people. Like Alya, Alya is very present. But Chloé’s presence tends to be obnoxious and narcissistic and shockingly energetic for someone who is such a grump in the mornings. And Marinette is honestly too tired for any part of Chloé’s presence right now.

“Hey, Chloé,” Adrien says. And there’s only the slightest strain in his voice. It’s not even really a strain, it’s just outright exhaustion. Marinette has to give him props.

“ _So_ , my dad called today, _aaannnndddd_?”

Marinette opens her eyes to see Chloé dangling her phone in front of Adrien's face. His eyes cross as he tries to see what’s on the screen. And wow does Marinette find that strangely endearing.

He leans away. “Uh…?”

“Tickets!” Chloé squeals. “Tonight for you and me! Sleeping Beauty and dinner, just like old times!”

Adrien smiles. Marinette has gotten a little bit better a reading him, he still has an incredible number of walls up that she can’t seem to get through, but she can see it in his eyes. A sort of soft, bittersweet look. A hint of regret. “Sounds like fun. I’ll talk to Plagg so I’m free.”

Chloé lights up and throws her arms around him. “Yes! It's going to be _so_ much fun, Adri. We have the best seats in the house and the food—”

Marinette gives Adrien a small smile and scoots over to her bag as Chloé rambles on. She hopes that if nothing else, Adrien will enjoy the ballet. She hasn't been to a ballet in years. But she still remembers how the costumes shimmered under the lights and how she had gasped when snow started to fall onto the stage. She remembers thinking that she would slip on it immediately— she had been totally in awe of all the ballerinas twirling through it en pointe.

She puts in her headphones and rolls out her muscles as she waits for class to start. She returns herself to the audience of the Nutcracker, feeling the orchestra music wash over her in waves.

—«·»—

Marinette hums to herself as she unties her pointe shoes. _Technically_ , she’s humming The Garland Waltz — if you're Alya and insist on everything being exact all the times. “Side effect of journalism,” Alya would say with a shrug. “You have to get to the source.” — but the words to Once Upon a Dream are stuck in her head.

“ _The way you did once upon a dream_ ,” Adrien sings softly, joining in right on cue.

Marinette freezes.

He drops down next to her, face red and hair disheveled. “You have a nice voice.”

She blinks rapidly and can feel her face heating up. “I-I was just humming,” she stutters. “Nothing like— I can’t sing, not really.”

“Neither can I,” Adrien says with a lopsided smile. “So I usually only do it in the shower.”

Marinette gives him a small smile and tugs off her toe pads. “I’m sure your voice is lovely.”

“I sound like a dying cat,” Adrien deadpans. “Trust me, there’s a reason I play piano.”

“You play piano?” Now Marinette is picturing him playing piano, and it’s a very distracting image. “D-do you like it?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind it. It’s relaxing sometimes. Other times it’s frustrating and I want to bang my head against the keys.”

She tucks her shoes away and twists open her water bottle. “I don’t think that's good for the piano. Or your brain.”

“Too late.” Adrien leans against the wall. “Do you play any instruments?”

“I tried flute,” Marinette admits. “I wasn’t very good at it.”

“Ugh, instruments that involve breathing. I’m good.” Adrien slumps against the wall. “I’ll stick to having a hard time breathing while dancing. I don't want to struggle with that while sitting down too.”

“What about dancing while playing the flute?”

Adrien groans and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his already messy hair. “Don’t even suggest it.”

Marinette giggles and leans against the wall next to him. “Don’t you have plans with Chloé right now?” she asks. Class had ended about half an hour ago, and Chloé had rushed back to their room to find something to wear while Marinette practiced her turns.

“In like an hour,” Adrien says. “Plagg moved up and shortened my rehearsal with him today because of it.”

Marinette gives him a once over. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Like showering?”

He presses a hand to his chest. “Are you telling me I smell?”

She wrinkles her nose. “You do.”

He nudges her. “Yeah, well…so do you.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Another incredible comeback by Adrien Agreste.”

“Don’t blame the homeschooled kid for having no biting remarks,” he says defensively.

She raises her eyebrows. “The homeschooled kid who grew up with Chloé Bourgeois and was constantly surrounded by people because of his ballet career?”

“Okay, touché.” He stretches his legs out. “What is it like at public school?”

Marinette shrugs. “It’s school. It’s boring, and there are usually a million other places you’d rather be. Like at the studio, or at home in bed, or literally anywhere else. And you see the same people all the time. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, you make lots of friends. But at the same time, you see the same people _every day._ So if you don't like someone…”

“You’re stuck with them,” Adrien finishes. “I kind of wish I could try it. Just once.”

“No chance?” she asks.

“Well it’s my last year,” he says. “And it’s already planned out. From auditions and rehearsals to photo shoots and performances.”

“Hm.” As much as Marinette sometimes dislikes school, she can’t imagine having her schedule planned down to the minute so neatly like Adrien’s. “What do you do in your free time?”

“What free time?” Adrien jokes.

Marinette elbows him lightly. “You have to do _something_ fun.”

He shrugs. “Okay, yeah. I play videogames with my friend Nino whenever I can. And I read a lot, especially since I can do it wherever and whenever. What about you?”

“I draw, and I… I design.” She watches his face carefully for a reaction.

He just furrows his eyebrows. “Design?”

“Yeah,” she says hesitantly. “Mostly costumes, but some clothes too. It’s just...something I like to do?”

Adrien brightens. “That’s really cool! You’ll have to show me some of your designs sometime!”

Her heart flutters. “Y-yeah! Sure. I’ll…I’ll bring my sketchbook around sometime.”

“Awesome!” His phone buzzes. “And that’s Chloé telling me what I colors I shouldn’t wear,” he says, scrolling through her messages. “I should go.”

“You actually should've gone earlier,” Marinette points out.

“Don’t criticize my life choices, Marinette,” Adrien says as he pushes himself up off the floor.

She can’t lie, it makes her heart do weird things when he says her name. Not that her heart doesn’t always do weird things when she’s around him, but now more than ever. “Have fun tonight.”

He smiles down at her. “I will! See you later!”

She waves at his back as he leaves the room. “Yeah… See you.”

—«·»—

Marinette faceplants into her pillow as her heart beats at what feels like a thousand times a second. Adrien is nice and caring and funny and surprisingly easy to talk to once she shoves all her feelings to the back of her mind. Adrien is perfect, just not in the way she'd been thinking he was before. And she’s going to die.

 **From: the greatest person ever**  
**To: cupcake queen ✌**  
     mari ur being over dramatic  
     ur not gonna die  
     hes just a boy

Marinette groans and lifts her head to read Alya's text messages. She groans as she types out her response.

 **From: cupcake queen ✌**  
**To: the greatest person ever**  
     No I'm not al  
     And yes I am  
     He's so  
     And I'm so  
     /screams/

She can imagine Alya rolling her eyes. But it's true! If she thought Adrien was unattainable before, wow is he unattainable now! Before it was a celebrity crush. Now it's a real crush. With really gross, gushy feelings and heart swoops and blushes and _she is going to die._

 **From: the greatest person ever**  
**To: cupcake queen ✌**  
     uh no ur not  
     bc ur not allowed to die until u make me cupcakes

 **From: cupcake queen ✌**  
**To: the greatest person ever**  
     ALYA!  
     Now is not the time for cupcakes!

 **From: the greatest person ever**  
**To: cupcake queen ✌**  
     ITS ALWAYS THE TIME FOR CUPCAKES!  
     I DESERVE THOSE CUPCAKES  
     especially if im helping u get the guy

Marinette narrows her eyes.

 **From: cupcake queen ✌**  
**To: the greatest person ever**  
     Alya  
     You'd help me even if you weren't getting cupcakes  
     The cupcakes don't have anything to do with this

 **From: the greatest person ever**  
**To: cupcake queen ✌**  
     no i wouldnt  
     ...  
     ok  
     i lied  
     i would  
     bc i love u  
     but i still want cupcakes

 **From: cupcake queen ✌**  
**To: the greatest person ever**  
     You'll get cupcakes

 **From: the greatest person ever**  
**To: cupcake queen ✌**  
     I WONT IF U DIE

 **From: cupcake queen ✌**  
**To: the greatest person ever**  
     THEN HELP ME NOT DIE

 **From: the greatest person ever**  
**To: cupcake queen ✌**  
     IDK JUST MAKE OUT WITH HIM?

Marinette rolls over and just calls Alya. She's really glad no one else is in the room. "Alya that's so not helping," she says as soon as Alya picks up.

"How am I supposed to know what to do?" Alya asks. "I've never even met the guy. The best romantic advice I can give you at this moment is to show up outside his window with a boombox."

"How much sleep are running you on?"

"I don't know, four hours?"

Marinette hums. "Last three nights?"

Alya pauses. "Okay…probably not enough. But that's _not the point_. The point is, you aren't going to die over a little crush."

"I might."

"Mari, no one has ever died because of a crush."

"You can't know that for sure." Marinette throws an arm over her eyes. "Did you know that it's actually possible to die of a broken heart?"

Marinette can almost hear Alya's eyeroll along with her sigh. "He hasn't even rejected you yet. I thought you said it was going well."

"I mean, I think we're friends." Marinette admits. "I _think._ But he's friends with a lot of people, Alya. Because he's a likable person. A really sweet, wonderful, likable person."

"Wow. You have it so bad."

Marinette presses the base of her free palm into her eye. "I know." She groans. "Okay, enough about me. How is everything?"

"It's the ushe." She hears a scraping noise and figures Alya must be sitting down after pacing around the room. "Business is good, I finally finished that article, and there's a stray cat hanging around outside the bakery."

"Don't leave out food, it'll never leave."

"I know, I know." The soft clicking noises of Alya's keyboard float through the phone. "Really though, not much has happened. You probably heard it from your parents when you talked to them last night, but they obviously miss you. And I miss you too."

Marinette smiles. "Aw, miss you too."

"And… Yeah, that's all. Really all I'm doing is working, writing, and summer work. Bleh."

Marinette sighs. "Oh. Right. That."

There's a pause in the typing. "So what about you? How are classes?"

"They're good, it's good." She sits up against her pillows. "I think I'm finally getting used to the schedule. And we find out about dances, solos, and duets for the showcase soon, so…"

"Ooo! Exciting! Swear you'll keep us updated?"

Marinette bites her lip. "Yeah, of course I will." That's a lie. If she gets a solo, which she has her fingers crossed for, she wants it to be a secret. She wants her parents and Alya to come to the showcase and be surprised. She's not entirely sure how she'll manage to keep it a secret yet, but she's sure she'll figure it out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so conflicted about Chloé. 
> 
> ushe = yuze/yuche = a shortening of usually 
> 
> Quick clarification!! When Adrien says it's his last year, he means that it's his last year of school before college or university! Both him and Marinette are going into their last year of school, making them 17 or 18. This also means that they'll be looking for ballet companies to join after graduation (Adrien probably has a whole bunch waiting in line for him though) 
> 
> Anyway! Please let me know if the text messages were too confusing! The best way I can think to fix them is to use actual names but I'm not about that. There's way more texting in ch6, so any suggestions now would be greatly appreciated! 
> 
> If you celebrate Easter, have a happy Easter tomorrow, and if you don't happy Sunday!! I'm on [tumblr](http://buglad.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) (and you can reblog this there!) <3


	6. stretch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had actual things to say but this didn't save as a draft so???? I don't know what they are, I'm sorry. This is sort of a mess, but so ~~is Adrien~~ am I so... (I did some editing the first time but since it didn't save, so this might be worse than I think it is)
> 
> Thanks to [pipabethiscanon](http://pipabethiscanon.tumblr.com/) for inspiring the contact names and the entire ml squad for having a very serious and surprisingly long conversation about what Mari and Adrien would get at Starbucks. And for indirecting getting me and all of my friends obsessed with the strawberry acai. 
> 
> Uh...what else was here? Ok, I don't know, but this chapter is like really long? Like a third of the total word count or something?? Sorry, I wanna be really excited about this chapter because of the six it's my favorite but I can't tonight. Sorry. Anyway, enjoy!

Adrien feels the beat of the music before he can hear it. It’s strong and pulsing, and a lot more like something that Nino would dance to than something Adrien would expect to be played in a ballet studio. He also isn’t sure who could be playing music. Almost all the teachers, aside from Plagg, are gone for the night. And Plagg is napping in the desk chair.

The studio is practically empty. Which isn’t surprising seeing that most people are eating dinner and taking full advantage of their free nights. Free nights are fun— for extra rehearsal. And as far as Adrien knows, he’s the only student with a key to the studios, and only because his father was _very_ insistent. No one else _should_ be here.

The music gets louder as he approaches the door to one of the rooms. He glances in the door’s window to see Marinette in the dim light of the studio. She’s wearing a loose top and sweats over her leotard and tights, tights rolled up around her ankles. She’s dancing again, but this time he doesn’t feel any jealousy. He’s just in awe.

Marinette swings her leg up behind her, easily catching it in a scorpion and spinning around. She stops the spin and stretches her leg straight before letting go and tucking into a roll. She moves with the same fluidity as she had the other day when she was en pointe, but any and all fragility has been replaced with an undeniable strength. She does a front aerial straight into a side aerial, and yeah. The only way he can describe what he feels is just _awe_.

Awe that could be considered weird if he’s just standing at the window watching her. He really needs to go practice his solo, _but_ —

He knocks on the door and opens it when Marinette whirls around to see him. She runs over to the speaker, sliding the last few feet and turning the volume all the way down. “Sorry!” she says quickly. “I like the music kind of loud.”

Adrien laughs. “It’s fine,” he promises.

Marinette visibly relaxes. “Oh okay. Are we closing up soon, or…?”

“Well, I mean…” Technically the studios closed a few hours ago.

“I can go,” she says, reaching for her phone. “Tikki gave me a key, I just completely lost track of time.”

He grabs her hand to stop her. “No no no, it’s okay! I’ve got a key too, and Plagg’s just napping. You can stay.”

Marinette freezes. Her eyes move to their hands. “O-okay?”

“You’re really good at dancing,” Adrien adds, unsure of where to take the conversation next. It feels like they’re talking for the first time all over again.

She rubs the back of her neck with her free hand. “I— I mean, it’s sort of what I do? It’s not that I’m— I just… I like to dance.”

“I meant outside of ballet. I’ve never _really_ seen you do anything else.” Why is he so aware of her hand in his?

Marinette drops her arm to tug on her hair. It’s in a ponytail. There’s a slight curl to her hair and now that he thinks about it, it had swung back and forth while she danced and she’d expertly flipped it away with a quick shake of her head. Sometimes, Adrien can barely handle his hair while dancing, he’s not sure how anyone can deal with long hair swinging around, poking them in their eyes, and getting in their mouth.

Adrien shakes his bangs out of his eyes as Marinette lets go of her hair.

“W-well I… I’m not _really_ a ballet dancer, so…?” she trails off, glancing away.

He squeezes her hand without thinking about it. “Of course you are!”

“I-I meant that I’ve never been exclusively a ballet dancer,” she stutters. “I think I’ve told you that?”

He remembers her mentioning this one of the first times they talked. He’d noted it, but he hadn’t known how much she meant by that. “You have. But it’s easy to forget with how good you are.”

Marinette blushes and laughs nervously. “Thanks, I guess? I mean… I just— I needed a break from ballet. You know?”

Adrien knows. He knows _so well_. Not that he’s supposed to say that. But there’s something about Marinette that always makes him want to tell her every secret he’s ever held. For some reason, he feels like one of these days he’s just going to willingly hand over each one.

He settles for a half smile. “I’ve never done anything _but_ ballet.”

She raises her eyebrows. “ _Really_? I can’t imagine just being stuck to one style.”

Adrien releases her hand, his own feeling strangely cold when hers is gone. “All I have is some bad hip hop moves my friend tried to teach me.”

Marinette wraps her arms around herself. “It’s not really a big deal, it’s just…dancing? You know, something you do w-when you’re alone in your room?” She bites her lip.

Her body language clearly screams that she’s going to close up again and Adrien wants _anything but that._ “It’s more than that, I mean… It's how you express and...” he trails off, not sure what to say.

Adrien is bad at hip hop. He _knows_ he’s bad at hip hop. There’s a reason Nino is the only one who’s seen him try. Adrien isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with his body when trying. It’s mostly…uncomfortable.

And yet, he steps away from Marinette and does the first of Nino’s combinations that comes to mind. He tries not to think about how awkward and alien it feels, and just focuses on the fact that he doesn’t want Marinette to feel like she can’t dance in the studio. It’s a _dance studio,_ it’s what it’s for. Especially after hours when she came because she clearly wanted to dance her own way.

Instead of finishing the combination, because he can’t remember it for the life of him, he just sort of throws his arms out in a ‘tada!’ motion. He twists around to see the look on her face.

Marinette is laughing at him. She doubles over, sitting down on the floor and rolling onto her side. She curls up on herself with her arms wrapped around her stomach, giggling as she tries to stifle her laughter before giving up and laughing fully again. If she were Nino, Adrien would be making some sort of sarcastic comment or giving her a joking glare. But she’s not Nino, she’s _Marinette,_ and her laugh is so bright and so happy. It makes his heart swell.

“What?” Adrien asks. “Am I not amazing at hip hop? Am I not the hip hop _king_?”

Marinette snorts, rolling so she’s sitting upright. “If you’re the hip hop king, that what does that make your friend who taught you this?” she asks through slightly more controlled giggles.

“The student has surpassed the master,” he says seriously.

She rolls her eyes fondly. “Right,” she drawls, a wide smile ruining the effect.

Adrien drops to the floor next to her. “This is why I should probably just stick to ballet, huh?”

Marinette raises her eyebrows. “You really aren’t that bad,” she insists.

He raises his own eyebrows right back at her. “Of course not,” he says seriously. “That’s why you were crying.”

“You’ve got the rhythm and basic movements down.” There’s a surprising amount of sincerity in her voice. She pushes herself up off the floor. “Really, the biggest problem you have is how uncomfortable and awkward you look. You’re just too stiff. Loosen up! You can be rod straight in technique class, but you have to relax for hip hop.”

“I just sat down,” he mutters.

She offers him a hand and hauls him to his feet.

“Thanks.” Adrien rolls his shoulders back. “Are you trying to tell me I’m not relaxed all the time?”

Marinette gives him a look.

“Okay, you’re right.”

“Relax your back and shoulders,” she says. “Don’t be afraid to move. Especially your hips.” She sways her hips. “You definitely have to loosen up your hips more.”

Adrien blinks. “Yup. Hips.”

Marinette shakes out her wrists. “I don’t really know _what_ that combo was, but if you want, I can teach you one of mine.”

“Really?” he asks in surprise.

She gives him a smile. “Sure. And I’d feel bad if I let you go back to your friend with you dancing like _that_.”

“Hey!” Adrien steps toward her in protest.

Marinette pokes a finger to his chest and pushes him away. “Whoa there, tiger,” she says, leaning the slightest bit closer. “Your meow is a little worse than your bite.” She winks and steps back so she’s in line with him.

He feels his cheeks heat up inexplicably.

Marinette laces her fingers together and stretches her arms out. “I promise this’ll get easier. Just follow my lead. And try not to think about technique or posture. Just let go.”

Adrien loves dancing with Nino. It’s frustrating and strange and his limbs feel out of control, but it’s always interesting. It’s always new. It’s similar with Marinette, but on a different level. When he finally does a move right, there’s a bright twinkle in her eye and sometimes when he messes up, she laughs before showing him again.

Somehow, he finds them moving from a hip hop combination to a jazz combination to a modern one. They flip through her playlist and Adrien thinks there’s a pretty high possibility that she’s making up combinations as they go.

Marinette is incredible. She easily jumps from style to style, sliding in and claiming it as her own. She immediately finds her place within the music, but Adrien stumbles through like he’s wandering around in the dark. Marinette just takes his hand and guides him.

She tucks her chin to her chest to look up at him, her bangs brushing the floor. “Try it?” she asks, her voice slightly strained from being upside down.

Adrien hesitates before dropping to his knees. “So how do I…?”

Marinette comes down from her elbow stand. She shows him how to position his arms and spots him as he kicks up. “See!” she says, her arms barely brushing his legs. “I told you it was easy!”

“Acro isn’t bad,” Adrien says. “I— I’ll tell you after, but all the blood is rushing to my head.”

Marinette moves her arms so he can kick down. Adrien falls backwards onto his back, staring at the ceiling. She joins him on the floor.

“I’ve actually done some acro,” Adrien admits.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her turn her head to look at him. “Really?”

He nods. “Plagg gets bored working on solos sometimes. He’s always wanted me to try more acrobatics. Says I have the right head for it, whatever that means.”

“You should, you’re good.”

Adrien makes an unconvinced noise as he watches the ceiling fans spin endlessly.

Marinette smiles at him. “You are,” she promises. “You might not have a lot of skills yet, but you’ve got the abilities. You’d pick it up quickly, I can tell.”

“I’d like to try it,” he murmurs.

“So why don’t you?”

It feels like a weight has been dropped onto his chest. Laying on his back is suddenly constricting and he’s having a hard time breathing. He pushes himself up, bracing himself with his hands on his shins.

“Adrien?” Marinette is moving, but he needs to just remember how to breathe for a minute.

He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

There’s a long pause. Marinette is probably weighing the pros and cons of asking another question. But Adrien can only think of every conversation he’s had with Plagg and Nino about this. They cycle through his head on repeat.

“…Can I ask why?” Her voice is soft and hesitant. It’s nervous— no it’s not. It’s not nervous. It’s gentle and careful. She’s tiptoeing her way towards the subject.

Adrien shuts his eyes. “I just…” He takes a deep breath. “I like ballet.”

“I like ballet too,” Marinette says. “But I also like jazz and contemporary and lyrical and modern and musical theater and so many styles of dance. Just because you like ballet doesn't mean you have to do it exclusively.”

“I know.” His voice wavers strangely. He hates it. It reminds him of how his voice sounds whenever he tries to counter his father. It makes his head hurt. The difference here is that he can never say these words to his father, but _Marinette_ … “I _want_ to do something other than ballet,” he says softly. “But I can’t.” He’s holding out a secret to her. It’s only one, but it’s more than most people get.

He can feel her eyes on him. He doesn’t know what she’s going to say, but he knows that he’s not sure if he wants to have this conversation right now. He’s not sure if he can _handle_ that sort of conversation right now. This is something he constantly avoids talking about with Nino.

Marinette seems to know that.

“What if we just went and got Starbucks?” she asks.

Adrien sits up straighter. “What?”

“Starbucks. What if we got Starbucks? Just ignored all the problems at hand and drank expensive drinks?”

He turns to look at her for the first time in a few minutes. She’s watching him with a soft gaze and an honest smile.

She’s taken his secret and tucked it away until further notice.

Adrien sighs and feels tension leave his shoulders. There are very few people he trusts to keep his secrets in their pockets. Marinette easily makes the list. He gives her a small smile. “That sounds good.”

—«·»—

Adrien pulls his phone from his bag as Marinette twists her hair up into a messy bun and slings her bag over her shoulder. He shakes his head as he scrolls through Nino’s texts.

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      HAHA YEAH RIGHT  
     man screw that  
     ill just restart the game  
     dude i hope you arent in the studio  
     you arent allowed to spend your life there  
     how am i supposed to make sure you arent dancing yourself to death if im not there  
     you havent answered my texts in over an hour  
     youre in the studio arent you  
     d u d e  
     if you arent answering these youre not gonna pick up if i call, are you??  
     boo  
     you suck

Adrien snorts and types out a quick response.

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      Ok yeah  
     I was in the studio

“Ready?” Marinette asks, unplugging her phone and turning off the stereo.

Adrien nods. “Whenever you are.” He pulls the door open and bows dramatically. “My Lady.”

She rolls her eyes, flicking off the lights as she passes the switch.

Adrien reads Nino’s latest messages as he closes the door.

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      D UDE  
     WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT THIS?????

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      I know I know  
     Does it help if I was with someone else?

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      uh no because plagg being there changes nothing

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      It wasn’t Plagg

As Adrien sends the message, he taps loudly on the top of the front desk. Plagg wakes up with a jerk, nearly falling out of the chair.

“Hey!” Plagg protests, grabbing onto the edge of the desk. “I’m napping here!”

Adrien jerks a thumb towards the door. “We’re leaving and everything’s shut down. Maybe you could try napping in a bed? Or somewhere other than an office chair?”

Plagg just relaxes back into the chair and closes his eyes, fake snoring loudly.

Marinette stifles a giggle with her hand as Adrien rolls his eyes. His phone buzzes.

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      ???????????????

—«·»—

Adrien ignores Nino’s text until they’re standing in the slightly crowded Starbucks. It’s almost nine o’clock at night, but it’s a small room as is. It smells like strong coffee and has that supposedly calming coffee shop ambiance. Both of which are to be expected, because it’s a _Starbucks_ , but Adrien’s never spent more than a few minutes in one before. Sometimes not even that. Nathalie, or more likely Nino, will just shove a drink and a pastry into his hands. Nathalie will then drag him off to wherever he is to be next, while Nino will drop onto the couch and start looking for a movie for them to watch.

Adrien finally replies to Nino increasingly more confused texts as he pulls out his wallet.

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      who is it if its not plagg??  
     chloe?  
     HA  
     who am i kidding its not chloe  
     i know because she tweeted about someone she hates and then about some event thing  
     and also because its CHLOE  
     aNYWAY  
     who are you with???  
     ??????  
     dude??  
     hello  
     adrien  
     you better have like died on me or something man

 ******From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎**  
     Sorry, we were walking to Starbucks

Adrien locks his phone and slides it into his pocket as Marinette steps up to the counter. She orders a hot chocolate, despite the fact that it’s nine o’clock at night and _still too hot,_ which is strangely endearing. When the barista asks for her name, she just says “Mari. M, A, R, I.” Her nickname is also strangely endearing. He saves it in the back of his mind for later, when it feels like they’re close enough that he can use it.

He already knows what he’s going to order, but he looks up to the menu boards anyway. He sees that little aside, ‘contains caffeine’, and ignores the warnings about caffeine that Nathalie would give him as she handed him a small or decaffeinated drink. (Like she didn’t drink a large coffee every morning. And then more throughout the day.) Adrien knows from experience, and Nino’s look of mild horror, that lightly caffeinated really does mean lightly caffeinated. Adrien mentally apologizes to Nathalie and orders a large strawberry acai. Since he’s already ignoring her dietary advice, he gets a chocolate croissant too.

Marinette shifts her weight from foot to foot, barely dancing along to music he can’t hear. She fiddles with her earrings as she bounces. She meets Adrien’s eyes, and he thinks she may color slightly, but she just gives him a small smile and keeps moving. She has a constant beat to her that he’s only noticing now that they’re _really_ out of the dance studio. It’s the slight musicality in her voice and the rhythm that she moves to.

Adrien knows he has his own beat. He feels it when he dances. Sometimes it wavers, especially on days when ballet is extremely tedious, but he felt it strong and steady when he was dancing with Marinette. The only times it’s ever equaled that is with Nino.

Adrien’s spent years suppressing the beat. Fidgeting isn't proper. Moving more than he’s supposed to is generally frowned upon. And now that he thinks about it, he wonders if that has anything to do with why Nino and Marinette can do hip hop and breakdance with such ease.

He pushes the thought away and grabs his drink as they call his name, following Marinette to a free table. It’s a silly thought. Sure, dancing is mental and physical, but it doesn’t really have much to do with someone’s inner beat. Because he’s not even sure what that _means_ , and that means he’s sleep deprived and coming up with strange concepts. Strange concepts that he’ll think back on when he finally crashes and sleeps for sixteen hours straight. He’ll think back on them and think, ‘ _what_.’

“That smells really good,” Marinette says, eying his drink. “I don’t know how it’s overpowering the coffee smell, but it is.”

Adrien smiles and holds out his cup. “Want a sip?”

She blinks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He leans forward and puts it down in front of her. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

“You could get sick and die,” she jokes, taking a careful sip. “Mmm.”

He shrugs. “Let’s hope my immune system is better than that.”

“Fingers crossed.” Marinette smiles, pushing his drink back. “It’s _really_ good.”

“But you wouldn’t give up your hot chocolate for it?”

She wraps her hands around her cup protectively. “ _Never_.”

Adrien feels his phone buzz again in his pocket. He’s been ignoring its vibrating, but Nino is probably yelling at him again. He pulls it out and scans the messages. Yup.

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      rude  
     its rude to leave a guy hanging like that  
     so starbucks?  
     ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
     ……  
     are you  
     yeah you are  
     youre ignoring me  
     again  
     you are the worst  
     i hate you

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      Does that mean I have to delete all the hearts in your contact name?

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      dont you d a r e

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      You know I wouldn’t

“Talking to a friend?” Marinette asks.

“Huh?” Adrien looks up from his phone.

She puts down her cup. “You’re smiling at your phone.”

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, my friend Nino. He’s the one taught me hip hop. Or…tried to.”

She smirks. “Tell him he’s welcome.”

Adrien raises an eyebrow, but does it. Vaguely, because messing with Nino is arguably one of the best parts of their friendship.

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      She says you’re welcome

The results are instantaneous.

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      youre welcome???  
     for what???????  
     ?????  
     im confused??  
     what did she do??  
     what did YOU do??  
     what did i NOT DO  
     who is this??????????

Marinette looks amused by the rapid influx of text messages. “Best friend?” she asks knowingly.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

She tucks her feet under her chair. “My best friend sends me a lot of texts really fast when she doesn’t know what’s going on. I don’t know if it’s universal, but—” She shrugs. “I figure it’s a decent guess.”

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      Marinette

Adrien pulls up a picture of Nino after sending the short response. Nino’s half asleep on a textbook, with his headphones falling off one ear and a large mug of coffee next to him. He shows it to Marinette.

She laughs. “I think Alya has hundreds of pictures like that for me.”

“Is Alya your best friend?”

Marinette smiles. “Yup.” She swipes through her phone a few times before showing him the screen.

Marinette turns her phone to show him a picture. It's a selfie of her and someone else, Alya, he assumes, but he can only focus on Marinette. Because she's winking and holding up a peace sign and her hair is in pigtails and she’s wearing up a cute striped dress and _wow_.

He leans back in his seat and looks down to his own phone to break his gaze.

“Best friends since the beginning  of middle school,” Marinette says fondly. “One of the funniest, most driven people I've ever met. She's going into journalism.”

Adrien can feel the love rolling off Marinette. Her mood is infectious. “She sounds awesome.”

Marinette turns her phone back. “Yeah she is. She’s one of those people who always knows exactly what to say in every situation. And claims to be the ‘voice of reason’ in our friendship.” She rolls her eyes. “What about Nino?”

“I’ve only known him for like a year,” Adrien admits. “He was working music and lights for a performance I was in and sat down next to me at a rehearsal when I was in the audience. We sort of immediately clicked. He does hip hop and mixes a lot of his music. And he’s interested in movie making. He’s pretty laid back.”

“Which I’m sure is nice. You’re surrounded by some pretty tense people.” She raises her eyebrows as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

He shrugs. “Side effect of the job? Mostly we play video games and binge movies and anime.” He glances through Nino’s new messages.

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      ayyyyy  
     marinette!!!  
     youre at starbucks with her?  
     how did she convince you to leave the studio?

Adrien shakes his head and lifts his phone, opening up the camera. He turns it to Marinette as he hits record. “How did you get me to leave the studio?”

Marinette looks up from her own phone and blinks. “Uh… I offered sugar?” She eyes his phone. “What is happening right now?”

“Video for Nino, because I don't think he'll believe that I left the studio without being dragged out half dead.”

She snorts. “Hi, Nino,” she says, wiggling her fingers in a wave. A smirk spreads across her face. “Guess I’m just better than you,” she says with a sing-song lilt in her voice.

Adrien laughs and stops the recording. He sends it with the caption, ‘She definitely is’. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Alya has had to drag me out of the studio before, _that_ is always fun.”

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      dang dude shes cute  
     ;) ;) ;)  
     tho im totally fighting her  
     im way better than her

Adrien hopes Marinette doesn’t notice his ears turning pink. “Nino says hey,” he lies. “And that he’s going to fight you.”

She just raises an eyebrow. “Fight me, Nino.”

He gives her a once over. “Yeah, you could probably snap Nino in half.”

Marinette shrugs with a slightly smug smile. “Maybe you should warn him.”

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      If you fight her you will literally die.

“Done,” Adrien says as he sends the text. “He’s been warned, but I can’t say he doesn’t make rash decisions.”

“Can’t say I don’t either,” Marinette admits. “Like I said, Alya is my ‘voice of reason’. But honestly, Alya is just as rash as me sometimes. Looks like you’re the rational one.”

Adrien winces. “Okay, bad call.”

She leans forward in surprise. “ _You_ make rash decisions?”

“I mean I don’t really have the _opportunity_ to make _lots_ of rash decisions. …but Nino has definitely told me I can be a little too reckless.”

“Adrien Agreste? Reckless?” Marinette narrows her eyes. “And to think I thought you were a nice person.”

“I _am_ a nice person!” Adrien protests.

She raises her eyebrows. “Are you _really_?”

He just gives her a flat look and takes a long sip of his drink. “Are these good?” he asks, lifting up the croissant.

“Do you want my completely biased opinion?”

Adrien nods. “I’ve never had one of these before. I mean, I’ve had croissants, just not from here.”

Marinette reaches across the table and rips off a piece.

“Hey!”

She shrugs and pops the piece into her mouth. She chews slowly, furrowing her eyebrows and humming thoughtfully.

“You are taking this a lot more seriously than I thought you would,” Adrien says.

Marinette holds up a finger as she finishes chewing. “Not that bad.”

“But?”

“ _But_ , could be fluffier. A little stale, which should be expected, seeing that this is _Starbucks_ and we’re reaching the end of the night. The chocolate is ok,” she waves her hand in a so-so motion, “but I think that a.) it’d be better warmer because then it’d melt in your mouth more and b.) there should be more because chocolate. Oh, and it’s a little sweet for me, but that’s my personal opinion.”

Adrien blinks. “As opposed to?”

“An objective but somewhat biased opinion.” Marinette takes a sip of her drink.

“That was…” He shakes his head. That was a lot more to take in than he was expecting. “Sorry, what do you mean by biased?”

“Eat your croissant,” she says pointedly. “Just because I said that it could be better doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

“If I eat it will you tell me what you meant?”

Marinette sighs dramatically. “ _Fine_ ,” she says, and Adrien basically devours the croissant. She watches him with an amused look. “My parents own a bakery,” she says when it’s half gone. “And I don’t mean to say they’re the best bakers in France, but there’s definitely a difference between freshly made croissants and Starbucks croissants.”

“I’ll have to stop by sometime and have a croissant so I can compare them,” Adrien says.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “I… Yeah, you should. That’d…that’d be nice.”  

“Sounds like a date.” He puts down the remains of the croissant. “Or…a plan that’ll happen at some point in the near future because I don’t know what day it’ll be?”

She gives him a timid smile. “Sounds like a date.” She bites her lip as her phone lights up. She swipes her screen, tapping rapidly.

That reminds him…

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      pff yeah RIGHT  
     im gonna take her d o w n  
     her and me behind the school at 3  
     im gonna assume you two are like being social since youre not responding  
     way to make me seem like even more of a loser  
     this is why i need you here with me  
     so we can sit on the couch and be losers together  
     instead youre going on cute starbucks dates  
     this is betrayal  
     et tu adrien???

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      Then fall, Caesar

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      get a load of this nerd

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      Nino I know you can quote most of the Queen Mab speech

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      um excuse you  
     that was for school  
     not to mention that i am the BEST mercutio  
     a plague on YOUR house man

Adrien rolls his eyes. He starts to respond, but Nino beats him to it.

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      anyway dude  
     ive gotta get up in the morning for rehearsal so im hitting the sack  
     which  
     now that i think about it  
     youve got rehearsal too  
     so consider this: sleeping

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      It’s been considered

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      haha very funny  
     get some rest dude

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      I will  
     Quit dading me

 **From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      well someones gotta  
     night man love you  <3

 **From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      Sleep well, love you too <3

Adrien slides his phone into his pocket and leans back. He turns the rest of the croissant over a few times in his fingers before popping it in his mouth. His gaze drifts around the room before landing on Marinette.

Marinette lifts her cup up to her nose, closing her eyes as the steam from her drink warms her face. She hums contentedly to herself, resting her elbows on the table and sinking into them. Her hair is falling out of its messy bun, and her shirt is sliding off one shoulder to reveal her pleated leotard.

Adrien wonders how she got so much of him so quickly. Nino figured him out quickly. Nathalie, even if she didn’t act like it, got him. It took a significantly longer time, but she got him. Chloé gets him occasionally, when she’s more like the Chloé he used to know than the Chloé he knows now. Plagg got him in the way Plagg does everything, without much effort.

Marinette might’ve crashed into him when they first met, but she slid into his life as easily as she slides into different dance styles. She lights up like the sun when talking about things she enjoys and can be funny and interesting and she has freckles that speckle the bridge of her nose and cheeks and there's the way she ties up her hair and how she flips her bangs out of her eyes and the way she giggles and how she dances and— oh.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nino: *jumps row of seats* *plops down next to Adrien* *rests arm on back of Adrien's seat* *fingerguns* Whassup bro? 
> 
> I did literally no editing for this, so if there's any glaring mistakes please let me know. And ch7 might be late. My life has been really busy and I only have about 200 words written so far. In fact, the entire update schedule might be kind of wonky from here on out. You can check [HERE](http://buglad.tumblr.com/tagged/fic-updates) for updates and stuff. The turn Mari was doing is [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uU480RQxak), and if you're confused about the French school system like I am, [HERE](http://buglad.tumblr.com/post/139490869533/things-to-know-about-the-french-school-system) is a good, simple post about it. 
> 
> Adrien might seem...weird to some people. With the whole wanting to do other dance thing. And, as someone who did quit something that they did at one point really love, it sucks. A lot. And I didn't have a career coming out of it, so I can't even imagine the anxiety Adrien would be going through compared to mine. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://buglad.tumblr.com) and you can reblog this there if you'd like <3


	7. center

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~slam dunks this in the garbage~~
> 
>  
> 
> So…here we are. I’d like to apologize for the wait and the unorganized blehnnes of this chapter. Would you believe we’ve reached the actual plot? Yeah, only took like 17k words. 
> 
> Anyway, besides my inability to get on a computer, major insecurities about my writing, and my difficulties with writing the dancing and plot, I also was unable to update last week because I deleted my tumblr. I had been going through old urls and clicked a few too many times and just…gone. 
> 
> I’ve spent the past few days reuploading fanfics to buglad and wearetheseven. Currently for buglad I only have tangled ribbons up, but I’m working on it. Thank you to everyone who’s given me endless support in this disaster that I’ve created for myself. 
> 
> There is a bit of dancing in this chapter! Specifically a lift, but there are videos to go with! The lift is one from the Bluebird pas de deux because if you couldn’t tell, it’s one of my favorites. Click [THIS](https://youtu.be/kSGX3zjkLfw?t=1m26s) link to be brought to the spot in the video where that section begins! Also, before I deleted, I asked people if they wanted an Alya scene or a Nino scene in this chapter. I don’t know what the final outcome was, because it had been a while since I checked before I accidentally deleted, but Alya had been winning so Alya we have!
> 
> A huge thank you to [zoenightstars](http://zoenightstars.tumblr.com), the Alya to my Marinette. I’m pretty sure you’d be Ladybug, but let’s be real, you keep me from making my life a _complete_ disaster. Basically whenever I write Alya texting, I think of you. And I mean, you definitely keep me from totally embarrassing myself. 
> 
> Also thank you to the ml-network. Who’s only been around like…20 days? Maybe? But the entire group has been endlessly supportive and fun. Thank you all for your really weird memes and voice calls and just being there as a sort of lighthearted escape for me this week. 
> 
> And finally thank you to everyone who’s read, commented, reblogged, liked, and given kudos. It means the absolute world to me that you all love this fic as much as I do. And I remembered what I forgot last update!! [bluefireeyes](http://bluefireeyes.tumblr.com) on tumblr drew [incredible Tikki and Plagg fan art](http://buglad.tumblr.com/post/142601372923/buglad-bluefireeyes-with-spring-break-i-had) and you should totally check it out!! Coincidentally, Tikki and Plagg are way more present in this and following chapters :)
> 
> Now enough of my gross sappy sentimental ramblings. You aren’t here for that, you’re here for dancing and two nerds falling in love! Let’s get on with that. There’s a lot in the end notes, including a clarification, so definitely check those out. And enjoy!

Marinette’s world freezes. She’s not sure how she’s gotten to this point, and she has the urge to pinch herself repeatedly to make sure she’s not dreaming. Even then she wouldn’t be entirely convinced. Because she may be lucky sometimes, but she didn’t think she was this lucky.

Marinette realizes that Tikki is waiting for some sort of response.

“Me?!” Marinette presses her hands to her chest. “ _Me_ me?”

Tikki laughs. “Yes,  _you_ you, Marinette.”

“But I— You…” Marinette leans her back against the barre. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly,” Tikki says with a gentle smile.

Marinette realizes she has three options. 1. Be completely overjoyed. 2. Panic. 3. A weird mix of both.

She settles on number three.

“You want to choreograph a solo for  _me_?” she asks for clarification. In case there’s something seriously wrong with her hearing.

Tikki nods. “Yes.”

Marinette nods slowly along with her. “Oh. Oh, okay. Okay. Right. …why me?”

“You're a beautiful dancer, Marinette," Tikki says. "You've improved leaps and bounds in the past two weeks. You're dedicated and passionate, and really the question is why _not_ you?"

Marinette blinks. The voice in her head is currently reading off an entire list of reasons why Tikki should choose someone else. Anyone else. The voice sounds an awful lot like Chloé. She wishes it weren’t so loud.

“So what do you say,” Tikki asks. “Would you like to do it? You can say no, of course.”

“Yes!” Marinette says quickly. She shoves the voice to the very back of her mind. “Absolutely, I’d love to! Do a solo. Really! I’d like that a lot _._ ”

Tikki smiles and claps her hands together. “Great! If you can stay a little bit longer, there was one more thing I'd like to do.”

Marinette pinches her arm as she follows Tikki out of the studio. She’d been hoping for a solo, but she didn’t think she was actually going to get one. There are so many incredible dancers— she's just one. How had she somehow stood out to Tikki? She isn't sure, but whatever she's doing, she seems to be doing it right. That's a good thing.

There's almost no way she's going to get through the rest of the summer without letting the secret slip.

Tikki opens the door to a different room and leads Marinette inside. She falters when she sees Adrien and Plagg. Doing headstands.

Adrien sees them in the doorway and starts to kick down.

“Hey! Did I say to come down?” Plagg asks, crossing his legs with ease.

“But—”

“The only butt I want to see is yours in a headstand!”

Adrien glances over to Marinette and rolls his eyes. He kicks back up so his back is against the mirror. Marinette smiles back shyly.

Tikki clears her throat.

Plagg lifts a hand to wave at her. “Yeah, yeah, I see you, Tik. Wanna join?”

“I’m good.” She glides over to Plagg and sits down next to him as he twists and flips in a way that ends with him sitting upright. Tikki motions to Marinette. “Come on in, no one’s going to bite.”

Adrien huffs at Plagg. “Can I—?”

“Not yet.”

Adrien sticks his tongue out as Marinette sits down.

Tikki shakes her head. “Come down, Adrien. Plagg is just being irritating.” She nudges him.

Plagg crosses his arms. “Psh, says you. Headstands are an integral part of my teaching method.”

“Right,” Adrien says as he sits up, his face red. “I’m never doing a stand on something other than my feet ever again.”

“Toes it is,” Plagg shoots back.

Marinette watches the conversation in fascination. She’s only seen glimpses of Adrien like this, and most of them were brief bits of conversations with Nino that she caught.

Adrien smirks. “Let’s do it then.”

“Let’s not,” Tikki interrupts. “Maybe some other time, but we aren’t here to see if Adrien can break his ankles.”

“Then what’s the point?” Plagg asks.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Adrien murmurs.

Marinette ducks her chin and hides her smile.

“The _point_ , _Plagg_ ,” Tikki says pointedly, “is to work on the Bluebird pas de deux.”

“Work on it?” Adrien asks. “Why are we working on it?”

Plagg shrugs. “We wanted to see you two do some things from the adagio and the coda. No big deal, you two free for an hour?”

Adrien gives Plagg and Tikki a look that Marinette can’t decipher. “I’m free,” she says, interrupting whatever telepathic conversation they were having.

“Don’t answer,” Plagg says to Adrien. “I already know your answer. And your schedule.”

“Right,” Adrien deadpans. “Of course. Which version did you get, the orange or the green?”

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Plagg says. He pushes himself to his feet.

Tikki clucks her tongue and stands as well. “We’re only going to do bits and pieces, just to see how things flow.”

A sudden thought enters Marinette’s mind, and maybe she agreed to this too fast. “I don’t really…” She bites her lip when they all turn to look at her. “I’ve never actually danced with a partner, so…? I-I mean, we have one male dance and he is fourteen and if anyone is being lifted it’s him so, uh… This might not—”

“There’s a first time for everything, kid,” Plagg says, hauling Adrien to his feet. “And if you fall on top of Adrien, no one’s going to care. It’s not like we’ll miss him.”

Adrien scoffs and shoves Plagg away.

“You’ll be fine,” Tikki promises. “It’s a learning process, you’ll get used to it.”

Oh no, Marinette will not get used to it.

—«·»—

She gets through the first few sections fine enough. And by fine enough, she means she’d kept her heartbeat somewhat under control when Adrien had his hands on her hips for the pirouettes. That was an accomplishment. But the second they go to do the lift, she starts to panic.

“Do you trust me,” Adrien asks, offering his hand with a smile. They’ve done it three times with Plagg and Tikki spotting, but now Plagg and Tikki are stepping away.

“Yes,” Marinette says hesitantly. She takes his hand. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him. She trusts Adrien. She trusts him a lot for a guy she met two weeks ago and sometimes has problems talking to without stuttering. But she also can't stop thinking that she might just fall backwards over his shoulder. He’s not that tall, but the ground is still so far away.

Marinette trusts Adrien. But there’s another level of trust when it comes to partnering— especially partner tricks. A level that she doesn’t really think they’ve reached yet, but they’re jumping right past that. She gulps.

“Ready?” Tikki asks.

“As I’ll ever be.” Marinette turns around, her back to Adrien, and rises up on relevé. Her heartbeat is racing, and not just because Adrien has his hands on her hips.

“Don’t worry,” Adrien murmurs in her ear. “I’m not going to let you fall.”

 _Too late_ , she thinks.

As she breathes in, he tightens his hold on her and she drops to a small plie before jumping.  Marinette tightens every muscle she can as Adrien lifts her, careful to not even breathe too much. The second he puts her down on his shoulder, she wants to collapse in relief, but that’s really the worst thing she could do right now.

“Told you it was easy,” Plagg says.

Marinette drops her arms from fifth position to grab onto Adrien’s other shoulder. “Yup, easy,” she mumbles.

“Give her a break,” Tikki says, gently hitting Plagg’s arm. “You know the first lift is always the scariest. Besides, we did an equally easy lift for our first and you _dropped me_.”

Adrien laughs. “You want to come down?” he asks, looking up at Marinette.

“That’d be nice,” Marinette admits.

Adrien’s grip on her waist tightens again. When her feet touch solid ground, Marinette starts breathing normally again.

“Sorry if you have any bruises,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Worth it if it means I didn’t get dropped,” Marinette says with a smile.

“Time for the one handed presage lift.” Plagg runs his hands together.

The color drains from Adrien’s face as Plagg cackles.

“ _No_ ,” Tikki says sharply. “That’s just mean.”

“But his face—”

“If _you_ want to do it, _you_ can. But I think we all know how poorly that lift would go if Adrien tries it,” Tikki says.

A smile slowly spreads across Plagg’s face. 

“Adrien’s nowhere _near_ ready to perform lifts like that and honestly, joking about it to get a reaction out of him is—” Tikki shrieks as Plagg scoops her up in his arms and drops her on his shoulder.

“See, _easy_.” Plagg smirks and spins in a circle.

“Show offs,” Adrien mutters.

Marinette tries to imagine being able to do lifts that easily. Annnndddd…nope. Nothing.

Tikki crosses her arms. “I hate you.”

“Nah.” Plagg lowers her to the ground. “I don’t think you do.”

“Can we at least _pretend_ to be productive?” Tikki chides.

Plagg meets Marinette’s eyes and winks. “Where’s the fun in that?”

—«·»—

“So you know Plagg and Tikki pretty well?” Marinette asks as she tugs bobby pin after bobby pin out of her hair. It was a minor miracle that it had stayed up as well as it had through three classes and an extra rehearsal.

“Pretty well doesn’t quite cover it,” Adrien says with a crooked smile. “I’ve been in a couple productions with them. And Plagg has been doing my solos for a few years now. I probably spend as much time with them as I do with Nino.”

She tugs the elastics out of her hair. “Really?”

“Yeah!” He lights up in the same way that he does whenever he talks about Nino. “They were principal dancers in the first production I was in, actually. They kept me entertained during rehearsals and made sure I made my cues. Although that was mostly Tikki.” He smiles down at his hands.

Marinette’s heart flutters. He has to stop looking like that. “Principal dancers?” she asks as she shakes out her hair.

“Yeah, the two of them tend to come as a pair more often than not.” He looks at her. “They—” He cuts off and stares at her.

Marinette frowns. “What? Is something wrong?”

Adrien blinks a few times before shaking his head. “Uh, no. Just…lost my train of thought for a second.”  
  
“Okay…?” She shrugs it off. “What were you saying? About Tikki and Plagg?”

“Oh, just that they work well together,” Adrien says quickly. “And they’re fun to work with. I’m not sure there’s ever a dull moment when both of them are around. Although Tikki generally has to stop Plagg from making bad life choices.”

“Bad life choices,” Marinette echoes. Why is that not entirely surprising? “Like what?”

Adrien laughs and rubs the back of his neck, not meeting her eyes. “Like staying up with me until 3 AM playing video games the week of a performance? Tikki might have to stop me from making bad life choices too.”

“At least someone does,” Marinette teases.

Adrien ducks his head. “Okay, fair enough.”

* * *

“I’m dead,” Adrien decides, falling to the floor. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling.

“I take it you don’t like leg day?” Marinette asks. She shuts the studio door, blocking out the chatter from the remaining dancers.

He groans. “I don’t like any conditioning. Ever. I feel like jello.”

She hums and pulls her phone from her bag, scrolling through her missed messages.

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: cupcake queen ✌  
**      hey ru at the studio??

 **From: cupcake queen ✌  
** **To: the greatest person ever  
**      Yeah why????

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: cupcake queen ✌  
**      pfff knew it!!!!  
     what am i not allowed to see how much time u spend dancing  
     aka too much

 **From: cupcake queen ✌  
** **To: the greatest person ever  
**      What happened to spending the summer becoming the best dancer ever???  
     Hypocrite

Adrien stretches his arms in the air. “Are you just going to wait here until you have solo?”

“Yeah.” Marinette sits down with her phone in hand. “I don’t exactly feel like leaving. Or moving. Or existing.” She flops backwards onto her back. She lifts up her phone as it buzzes.

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: cupcake queen ✌  
**      hush u  
     u can take breaks and still be the worlds greatest dancer  
     fight me mari

 **From: cupcake queen ✌  
** **To: the greatest person ever  
**      Too tired rn

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: cupcake queen ✌  
**      ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง

Marinette rolls her eyes and drops her arm over her eyes. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Adrien hums in agreement. “If Plagg ever has us do fondues that slow again I’m walking out of class.”

“I doubt he’d appreciate that.”

“Like he can stop me,” he mutters.

Marinette lifts her arm as the door opened. She sits up and blinks. “Wha—”

Alya smiles in the doorway. “I have too much stuff to lay down with you, so if you want a hug you’re going to have to get up.”

Marinette scrambles to her feet. “W-what are you doing here?”

Alya drops all her bags, throwing her arms around Marinette. “Visiting _you_! Can’t a girl take a two hour train to visit her best friend in the entire world? The same friend who’s in class 90% of the time and away for like another eight weeks? I’m dying from lack of Marinette.”

Marinette laughs and hugs her back. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.” Alya pulls away, holding Marinette at arm’s length. “If I do the ‘look at how much you’ve grown’ thing will you kick me out?”

“Definitely.”

“Sorry for interrupting you and whoever’s laying on the floor.” Alya leans around Marinette and waves to Adrien.

Adrien lifts an arm in greeting. “Hey.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Adrien. Who is doing what I wish I were doing right now.”

Alya raises an eyebrow. “Laying on the floor?”

“Dying,” Adrien says dramatically. He sits up with a groan.

“We had conditioning today,” Marinette explains. “And I don’t know if I’m going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Tell that to our six hours of rehearsal,” Adrien grumbles.

Marinette motions to Adrien. “Adrien, Alya. Alya, Adrien.”

Alya wiggles her eyebrows. “The infamous Adrien Agreste.”

Marinette tries to stop from blushing as Adrien asks, “Infamous?”

“Infamous, famous, everything and all of the above,” Alya says, waving her hand. “Let me tell you, you have some fangirls back home.” She bumps Marinette’s hip. “Don’t look at me like that, Mari. I was there when his performance in the Nutcracker got posted. _I remember_.”

Marinette lets out a small sigh of relief. She knew Alya would never say anything, but _still_. “Al, you’re talking about the literal twelve year olds.”

“So? The screams…” Alya shudders as she kicks her bags inside the studio and shuts the door with her foot. “They still haunt my nightmares. It was like being at an XY concert.”

Adrien gives Marinette a bewildered look. “Screams?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Again, they’re _twelve_. Most things make them scream.”

“Especially hot guys.” Alya shrugs.

Marinette’s eyes widen and she elbows Alya sharply.

“What?” Alya asks. “No offense, man, but you’re hot. I am not the first to say that and I will not be the last. At least the little bugs didn’t choose some gross looking guy to scream over this time.” She makes a face.

Adrien frowns. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome. But you’re distracting me from my mission!”

Marinette crosses her arms. “And what would that be?”

Alya bends down and picks up a bag. “I come bearing gifts!” She holds the bag out to Marinette.

Marinette pulls a box out of the bag. She sees the familiar sticker on the cover. She laughs as she opens the box to reveal four perfected frosted and sprinkled cupcakes.

“Cupcakes for the cupcake queen,” Alya says with a smile. “Maybe not Marinette originals, but Dupain-Cheng originals, which means they’re almost as good.”

Marinette forgot how much she missed her parent’s baking. She misses sweets and everything being covered in flour. She misses her parents getting up at the break of dawn to start baking, waking her up as they walk around the house as she groans and goes back to sleep. “Thank you,” she says softly.

Alya pulls away the box and puts it down on the stereo table. “Nope, no crying on the cupcakes. Come here.” She wraps Marinette in another hug. “I love you and we miss you and you are _not_ crying on the cupcakes.”

Marinette laughs as she buries her face in the crook of Alya’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispers. She didn’t realize how much she needed this.

“What are best friends for?” Alya lifts her head. “Want a cupcake, infamous Adrien Agreste?”

“You brought them for Mar—”

“I can’t eat four cupcakes,” Marinette says, cutting him off. She pulls away from Alya’s hug and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You can have one if you want one.”

“Actually no, this isn’t a question,” Alya says, picking the cupcake box up. She takes Marinette’s hand and drags her over to where Adrien is sitting. She sits down, pulling Marinette down with her. “You have not lived until you’ve eaten everything in the Dupain-Cheng bakery. And these cupcakes, while not Marinette’s _incredible_ cupcakes, are a good place to start.” She hands Adrien one of the cupcakes.

He gives her an amused look. “Okay?”

“Don’t just stare at the cupcake, marshmallow,” Alya says, pushing the cupcake closer to his mouth. “ _Eat it._ ”

Marinette picks up her own cupcake. “Leave him alone, Al. Don’t force him to eat it.”

“I’ll force everyone in France to try your cupcakes and you can’t stop me,” Alya says. She unwraps her own cupcake and takes a bite.

Adrien’s eyes light up when he takes the first bite.

“Told you.” Alya smiles smugly. “They’re the _best_. Just don’t eat so fast you forget to breathe.”

Marinette rolls her eyes and takes a bite out of her cupcake. She closes her eyes and savors the taste, letting the frosting melt in her mouth. Her maman’s cupcakes always remind her of being little and coming home to the smell of them baking. The smell of baked goods wafting up from the bakery, the whole house smelling like chocolate and sugar and candies. Flour everywhere, inescapable and inevitable. There’s always sweets around, taunting her before competitions and recitals and just generally throughout the whole dance season. She’s frosted enough cookies to feed several armies, baked enough bread to build a house using the loaves like bricks.

Marinette takes another bite.

She’s going to miss this when she graduates.

“Do they get the Marinette seal of approval?” Alya asks. Marinette opens an eye to look at her. She’s smiling at Marinette softly, like she knows every thought running through Marinette’s mind. Marinette wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Alya always knows.

Marinette nods. “Of course they do, Maman made them.”

Alya bumps their shoulders together. “Excuse you, _I_ helped with the sprinkles.”

“Oh well, _excuse me_ then, sprinkler supreme.”

Adrien looks up from devouring his cupcake. “Good title.”

Marinette blinks before tapping a finger to her nose. “Uh, you’ve got some frosting on y-your…”

Adrien crosses his eyes. “Oh. Thanks.”

Marinette looks down at her cupcake trying not to blush as he wipes the frosting from his nose. Alya nudges her in the side repeatedly.

Adrien drops the cupcake liner in the box. “But Alya’s right, that was probably the best cupcake I’ve ever had.”

Alya reaches over and grabs his arm. “Now imagine an even better cupcake. That’s what Marinette’s taste like.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “It’s the same recipe with the same ingredients made in the same kitchen. There’s nothing different about them, Alya.”

“They are baked with love and sunshine and rainbows and magic,” Alya says seriously, shaking Adrien’s arm. “They are _mind blowing_ and _life changing._ You’ll never be the same.”

Adrien gives Marinette an amused look. “Because of a cupcake.”

Alya gives him a deathly serious look. “ _Yes_.”

Adrien holds up his free arm in surrender. “I believe you.”

Alya releases him from her grip and sits back. “Good. And, oh!” She reaches for a different bag, falling to her back and stretching until her fingers touch the strap enough for her to drag it towards her. Marinette scoffs as Alya sits back up, groaning. “This is for you,” Alya says, handing the bag to Marinette and sticking her tongue out.

Marinette opens the bag to see a pile of fabric with her sewing kit on top. She looks up to Alya.

Alya shrugs sheepishly. “I know — and your parents know — that you said you didn’t need to bring it because you wouldn’t have time. But… Hey, I know you and your parents know you. And you mentioned that they’re announcing like dance parts and whatever like _tomorrow_ so we all figured maybe it’d be nice for you to have something do with your hands while you inevitably pace up and down the halls all night.”

Marinette closes the bag, her mind already swirling with ideas. She had caught a glimpse of one of the skirts she’d been struggling with, and has a sudden burst of inspiration for a way to try and fix the draping. “You really are the best, Al.”

“Of course I am,” Alya says with a wave of her hand and a sincere smile.

—«·»—

Marinette eats the remaining cupcake while listening to Alya’s playlist. Alya’s only been gone for an hour, but Marinette already misses her _so much_. It was so much harder saying goodbye this time, knowing she still has eight weeks before she gets to go home. Alya wasn’t sure if she’d be able to come down again, and that means eight more weeks without Alya. Eight more weeks without her parents. Eight more weeks without home. But she can _do this._

Aurore has the same idea as Marinette, and is laying on her bed with headphones on and her head under her pillow. Chloé stalks around the room with Sabrina just a few steps behind, going on and on about how she’s going to play each role.

Marinette rolls her eyes and turns her music up louder. She’s all for Chloé figuring out how to dance the parts, but they haven’t been assigned yet and they also don’t know what the roles are. Because there _are almost no roles_. There’s a few group dances for each age group, solos, duets, and a production. That’s all. It’s not as if they’re putting on a ballet. Of _course_ they still all have to play characters, but as of this second, there are no roles for them to play.

Marinette stands up and drops the cupcake liner in the trash. She pulls a square of fabric and the first spool of embroidery thread that she touches out of her bag. As she threads the needle she tells Chloé and Sabrina that she’s going out for a walk, but neither seem to be paying attention.

Their door shuts behind her with a satisfying click, effectively removing Chloé from her life for at least a little while.

Marinette wanders around, not paying too much attention to where she’s walking as she sews flowers and vines into the fabric. The calming, repetitive motions keep her mind from dropping into the vicious spiral of anxiety that’s going to keep her from sleeping tonight.  

Just a few more hours.

* * *

“I can’t look,” Marinette says to Adrien. He’s already been up to the board and read down the list, surely seeing himself everywhere he wants to be. Marinette hasn’t even been within five feet of the list. She wouldn’t be able to get through the crowd of people if she tried, and she’s also too terrified to look. The butterflies in her stomach beat their wings violently and she feels like she’s going to be sick.

“You should look,” Adrien insists. They’ve already had this conversation twice.

“You should just tell me,” Marinette says, covering her eyes. “Just tell me how bad it is.”

He laughs. “It’s not bad, I promise.”

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?” she grumbles.

He pulls her hands away from her eyes. “Would I lie to you?” he asks with a bright smile.

 _Oh no._ Can he not do that? With the eyes and the smile and the whole making her insides melt thing? It’s not fair.

“I can’t look.”

“You can definitely look,” he says, pulling her closer to the board. And the list. The dreaded list.

Marinette doesn’t want to know. She really doesn’t want to know. If Chloé left the room in an angry rage, she _really doesn’t want to know._

Adrien pulls her through the crowd of dancers and up to the list. “ _Look_.”

Marinette takes a deep breath and scans the list, looking for her name. Her gaze slides over the note that says duets have yet to be decided. Her eyes catch on Chloé’s name first, and she doesn’t know why Chloé was so mad. A quick check assures her that Chloé is in all the main dances and has a solo—

There’s her name.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Right below Chloé’s in every dance. Except one. The production.

Her name is at the very top of the list and she’s pretty sure she’s stopped breathing.

  * __Marinette Dupain-Cheng (principal dancer)__



Marinette blinks a few times, staring at the list. There’s no… “This is a joke, right? Is that—”

“It’s not a joke,” Adrien says. He puts his hands on her shoulders, and pulls her out of everyone else’s way. “I told you it was good.”

“I—” She leans around him to look at the list again. She can’t read it from where she stands, but she knows exactly where her name is on it. The words burn into her mind. “ _What_.”

“Congratulations, Marinette,” he says with a smile. “You deserve it.”

She forces a nervous laugh. “Pinch me, I’m dreaming.”

Adrien pinches her arm. “See? Not dreaming.”

Marinette doesn’t know if she believes him.

—«·»—

Marinette passes the list on her way into class. Just looking at it makes her feel like she’s floating. Her eyes land on the name just below hers. 

  * __Adrien Agreste (principal dancer)__



Her heart stops beating for moment.

—«·»—

“You don’t mind if we bring some more contemporary elements into your solo, do you?” Tikki asks. She flips through her phone as Marinette unties her pointe shoes.

Marinette looks up from wrapping her shoes in the ribbons. “Like what?”

Tikki shrugs. “I was thinking we could maybe do an almost contemporary solo, just en pointe. Really show off as much of your versatility as possible. Not to mention that I think you’d dance it beautifully.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Marinette admits. She rarely sees pointe outside of a classical environment. Probably a side effect of being a competitive dancer. Ballet doesn’t compete well. “But it sounds fun to try!”

Tikki smiles. “Good, because I think I’ve found a song.”

Plagg opens the door. “Good you aren’t doing anything.”

Tikki rolls her eyes as Plagg enters the studio with Adrien in tow. “Of course you can come in, Plagg. Thank you for asking,” she murmurs under her breath.

Plagg drops down to the floor next to Tikki. “So.”

Adrien sits next to Marinette. “So what?” he asks, crossing his legs.

Tikki puts her phone down. “We were wondering if you two would be interested in doing a duet together.”

Marinette’s world comes screeching to a halt. She replays Tikki’s words in her mind, just to be sure. Just to be sure. Because what. _What_?!

They need to give her a break between these things, because she definitely can’t handle anything even remotely similar to this for like the next week.

She blinks away her daze as Adrien says, “I would be.” If the look Tikki and Plagg exchange says anything, then all four of them know that he’s holding back his enthusiasm. “If Marinette is, I mean,” Adrien adds quickly.

“O-of course I would be!” Marinette stutters.

Adrien smiles at her. He’s so bright that she thinks she might be burning. She doesn’t really care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you write Plagg and Tikki? Also on my god dance world celebrities.... That one guy who would always dance shirtless at competitions, the girl who could do a bazillion leaps, that one really good acro studio, _known names_. It's ridiculous, I love it.
> 
> Quick explanation! For competitive dance, the production dance is the longest and largest dance that a company has. It’s probably not the same for ballet, but ah screw it. Productions are usually the majority of the company, usually tend to be 5-10 minutes long, and usually have sets or props or something like that. Also, while dances are generally split up into age groups, the production isn’t. When I say the majority I mean _a lot of people_. From the 18 year olds to the 8 year olds, everyone is involved. The point of productions is generally to tell a story! Which is why you would have principals/main dancers for them. 
> 
> Although let’s be real, I’m not going to go too much into a the production. I’ve never been in a ballet or even just had a dance en pointe, and if I’m struggling with two dancers, then I’m going to _die_ writing like 30-50 dancers at once. Not happening. Nuh uh. No way. I’m sorry. 
> 
> [THIS](https://rogueballerina.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/victoria-jaiani-carlos-quenedit-2-photo-by-herbert-migdoll.jpg) is the one-handed presage lift. And [another picture](http://ballet.isport.com/Image.ashx?rs=800x600&dir=Images%5C%5CGuide&File=Img_Popup_13264909132010072056.jpg). And a (bad quality) [video](https://youtu.be/o_NWkDqK08U?t=12s). And [page of advanced lifts that includes why this lift is hard](http://ballet.isport.com/ballet-guides/how-to-do-advanced-lifts-in-pas-de-deux) (scroll to the bottom of the page)
> 
> Writing partner dancing is hard. 
> 
> Also, pure coincidence that the ‘center’ chapter ends up in the center of the fic. And that makes me…so happy. 
> 
> Side note: a few years ago a girl at my studio did a contemporary/lyrical solo en pointe and I _swooned_ it was so good and I'm still dead. 
> 
> I hope you guys are looking forward to actual plot happening! I know I am! :) (ch9 especially…)
> 
> I am on tumblr under the same url as before! You can also reblog this and the reuploaded chapters of this fic [HERE](http://buglad.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics). Thank you so much for everyone who's refollowed and promoed me, I love you all <3 See you next week! :)
> 
> (wow those were the longest notes ever I’m so sorry)


	8. port de bras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back!!! We are back back back back back!!! 
> 
> Thank you so so so so so much for being patient with me through my show and aps and me just generally not being in a good place mentally. I was going to upload the other week, but there was a lot of sleeping that week and not a lot of human-ing. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the general terrible-ness of this chapter. Getting back into the swing of writing it was...not easy. It'd be longer, many scenes were intended to be longer, but I just couldn't do it. 
> 
> Unfortunately, I won't be updating next week. I'm out of state and without a computer, but ch9 is one of my favorites, so I'm going to be putting my heart and soul into that chapter, so hopefully it's worth the wait! It'll also be one of the longest. 
> 
> (And I had to give Nino his scene too ;) )
> 
> A few definitions at the end. Thank you again! And enjoy! <3

Adrien collapses in the desk chair, letting it spin in a slow circle before resting his elbows on the desk and burying his face in his hands.

For a second there, he was pretty sure she was going to say _no_.

He lifts his head as his phone rings. “Hey, Nino,” he answers.

“‘Hey, Nino’,” Nino mocks. “Like you didn’t just send me the weirdest texts and then just _didn’t respond_ .” 

Adrien laughs sheepishly and runs his hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Bro, what _was_ that?”

“Nothing,” Adrien says quickly.

“That definitely sounds like nothing.” Nino scoffs. “You free to skype or nah?”

Adrien opens his laptop. “Yeah, I’m back in my room.”

“Get on, my dude, it’s easier to figure out what you’re freaking out about when I can see your face. I’ll call as soon as I see you online.”

Adrien rolls his eyes as he hangs up, the notification for Nino’s call popping up on his screen almost immediately. His screen is filled with the back of Nino’s chair and head.

Nino spins around slowly, hands folded and hat pulled down low over his eyes. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Adrien raises his eyebrows. “Where’s the cat?”

Nino pushes up his hat. “Man, you say that like I just have cats lying around my house.”

“You have to _commit_ , Nino.”

“I don’t have _time_ or _money_ to commit.” Nino shakes his head. “Wait, no, you were going to lie to me about those texts.”

“I wasn’t lying,” Adrien insists.

Nino leans forward. “I don’t know, man. That was an awful lot of pretty panicked texting. I thought you were cool about the parts being posted today.”

“Ahhh, _well_ …” Adrien rubs the back of his neck, glancing at the small video of himself in the corner of the screen. At least the quality of his webcam is low enough that Nino won’t notice how bad he’s really blushing. “It wasn’t really _that_ I was panicking about. Sort of? I just… Um…”

Nino crosses his arms. “Adrien, what are you being weird about?”

“No one!” Adrien winces as he realizes that was really not what he should’ve said.

“It’s a person!” Nino shouts victoriously, throwing his arms up and spinning his chair in a circle. “Wait—” he catches himself on his desk, “does this have something to do with Chloé’s angry tweets about how unfair like the entire universe?”

Adrien shakes his head. “No, it does— Wait, what do you mean?”  

Nino shrugs. “I don’t know, man. The queen was pissed about something, and she was _ranting_. Someone is gonna feel her wrath and I’m glad it’s not going to be me.”

“Uh…” Adrien blinks. “I-I don’t know what she’s talking about? She got in all the dances, and a solo?”

Nino narrows his eyes. “I feel like you’re not telling me something, but I’m not sure if that’s because you’re not telling me or because you don’t understand what’s going on right now…”

Adrien shrugs.

Nino waves his hands. “Dude, what am I even _talking_ about?! That’s not even the problem right now. The problem is your weird texts that almost look like some sort of keyboard smash or maybe like you were on some really heavy medication or something?”

“I wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying,” Adrien admits. “In a way I _was_ just sort of keyboard smashing.”

“Okay,” Nino puts his hands together and leans forward, “but _why_.”

Adrien runs his hand through his hair. “Plagg just dropped something on me I wasn’t ready for.”

“What, more fondues?”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “Fondues are never a surprise with Plagg.”

“You’re dancing around the question, man,” Nino says. “Do I need to show up in your room? Because you are like a taxi ride away. And if I can’t get a taxi, I can walk.”

Adrien sighs. “Nino, it wasn’t anything. I’m just doing a duet. That’s all.”

“A duet,” Nino repeats. “ _Oh_.”

Adrien furrows his eyebrows. “Oh? Oh what? What’s with the oh?”

“It’s not a duet with _Chloé_ ,” Nino says pointedly.

“No, it’s with Marinette. What does Chloé have to do with this?”

Nino wiggles his eyebrows. “Marinette, huh?”

“Uh…” Adrien blinks a few times. “Yes?”

“You know,” Nino says, “I hope I get to meet this girl this weekend. She sounds great.”

“She is,” Adrien insists. “She’s just so— Wait, this weekend?”

Nino snorts. “See dude, this is why you need Nathalie. I don’t think you’d remember to eat without her scheduling it in.”

Adrien rolls his eyes.

“Come on man, I already told you this! I’m stopping by to make sure you haven’t become a total dance robot.”

“I’m not a dance robot!”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Nino leans back in his chair. “My point, I have free time and so do you so I’m coming to make sure you’re actually having fun and not lying to me and also because I miss you, dude.”

Adrien shakes his head. “I miss you too. But you don’t have to check up on me, I’m fine.”

Nino snorts. “You say that like I couldn’t call a taxi right now and show up in your room with pizza in less than an hour. I would if I didn’t have rehearsal tomorrow.”

“I know you would,” Adrien says with a smile.

“Good. I hope you don’t ask what I’m doing when I show up on Sunday.”

* * *

 “What are you doing here?” Adrien asks as he opens the studio door.

“I hate you,” Nino says. “Come here you nerd.” He pulls Adrien into a hug, leaning backwards and lifting him off the floor.

Adrien laughs. “Are you going to put me down?”

“Never. I’m stealing you.”

Adrien rolls his eyes as Nino starts to slowly back out of the room. “You can’t steal me.”

“Watch me.”

Adrien rests his chin on Nino’s shoulder. “You’re going to trip.”

“How dare you.” Adrien smiles as Nino stops backing up. “You really think _I_ would trip?”

“Yes,” Adrien says flatly. “I also think you’re going to drop me.”

Nino puts Adrien down. He releases him from the hug and pokes Adrien in the chest. “Just so we’re clear, dude, I put you down because I wanted to, not because I was going to drop you.”

Adrien snorts. “Sure, man. Whatever you say.”

Nino gives the studio a once over. “So this is where you’ve been living for the past few weeks.”

“Ha ha.”

“It’s nice. Big mirror. Makes it easier for you to admire your good looks.”

Adrien scoffs and elbows him.

Nino laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey, never said there was anything wrong with that.” He walks to the center of the room and spins in a slow circle. “Nice studio.”

“It’s a nice place,” Adrien says with a shrug.

“Wow. The excitement. You’re killing me.” Nino puts a hand to his chest and drops to the floor.

“I hate you too, you know.” Adrien sits down next to Nino.

“Awesome.” Nino puts his hands behind his head. “Friendships based on pure hate are the best friendships. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Adrien lays down and joins Nino in staring at the ceiling.

Nino makes a face. “Okay, dude, don’t turn on the fans in here. Those things are covered in dust. Whoever cleans this place is missing like the entire ceiling.”

Adrien raises his eyebrows. “You want to figure out how to clean up there?”

“Bro, I don’t want to die if someone turns those on and the entire room fills with dust.”

“I’m sure there’s a duster somewhere, do you really want to try and reach the fans?”

“Not really,” Nino admits. “Pretty sure our studio is dustier than this. And we sure don’t have nice wooden floors like this.” He knocks on the floor. “Marley all the way, my man.” 

“Can’t use rosin on Marley though,” Adrien points out.

“Yeah, that’d be problematic.” Nino whistles. “I wish our studio had acoustics half as decent as these, dang. You guys are wasting them with your classical music.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “I know you’re kidding, but you say that like no one ever plays nonclassical music here.”

Nino props himself up on his elbows, suddenly interested. “Who? Plagg?”

“Marinette, actually,” Adrien says.

“Marinette,” Nino repeats with a smile.

“What’s that look for?” Adrien asks. He feels defensive for some reason. He can’t explain it.

“Nothing, nothing.” Nino lays back down. “Absolutely nothing.”

Adrien crosses his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

“Dude, it’s nothing.”

“Hm.” Adrien raises a hand in greeting as there’s a knock on the door. He lifts his head to see Marinette looking in. His heart does that weird fluttery thing again. 

“She’s here?” Nino asks. “I thought you lived here by yourself.”

Adrien elbows him. “She comes in on Sundays and works on her own stuff in the next studio.”

Nino raises his eyebrows. “And you just know this off the top of your head.”

Adrien looks back to the door. Marinette opens it a crack and peaks it.

“I thought it was weird that the light was on but no music was playing,” she says, waving sheepishly to Nino. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not,” Adrien insists, scrambling to his feet. “We’re not doing anything.” 

“We’re literally talking about dust.” Nino sits up. “So you’re the ballet princess.”

Marinette blinks. “Um… I am?”

“Marinette, this is Nino. Nino, Marinette.” Adrien rubs the back of his neck. “You talked to him once at Starbucks.”

“I remember,” Marinette says, putting a hand on her hip. She raises her eyebrows. “The king of hip hop?”

Nino points finger guns at her. “You’re talking to him.”

Marinette scoffs. “Yeah right. You couldn’t even teach Adrien the basics.”

Nino pushes himself off the floor. “Is that right, Miss Tights and Bun? You think you’re better than me?” He throws his phone at Adrien.

Adrien sighs as he dives for it. “Have you considered not doing that?” he asks after nearly dropping it.

Marinette drops her bag and shuts the door. “You think you can outdance _me_ , Mr. Snapback?”

“Do I?” Nino points to Adrien. “Put it on.”

Adrien rolls his eyes, but goes along with it. If he’s learned anything from hanging out with Nino, it’s that once he sets his mind to something, he’s the most stubborn person ever. Kind of surprising for a guy who usually just goes with the flow.

He knows exactly which playlist Nino wants him to put on, but that just seems unfair. Adrien still puts on one of Nino’s playlists, and it's still the same style of music, but it makes Nino falter for a second when the music starts.

“I hate you,” Nino deadpans.

Adrien adjusts the volume. “So you’ve said.” He shoots Nino a cheeky smile.

“Screw you,” Nino says, spinning his hat around. “A little uptight for hip hop, are you?” he asks Marinette.

Marinette kicks off her shoes and rolls up her tights, keeping eye contact with Nino. She shrugs off the top of her leotard, pushing it down to the band of her sweatpants so she’s just wearing a red sports bra.

Adrien blinks.

“Keeping the bun?” Nino asks, raising his eyebrows.

She gives him a flat smile and pulls an elastic and a few key bobby pins out of her hair. With a shake of her head, her hair falls from its bun. She crosses her arms. “Any more complaints?”

“I’m good.” Nino cracks his knuckles. “Let’s go.”

Adrien makes himself comfortable on the floor as Marinette joins Nino in the center of the room. He’s surprised by the fierce look in her eyes. He hadn’t been expecting her to nearly this competitive.

As Marinette and Nino pass the dance off from one to the other, he can see the differences in their styles. He can see Marinette’s training in a wider range of dance, while Nino very clearly specialized in types of hip hop. And even then, the similarities are just as interesting to see, when they both hit the same accent, tossing the dance to the other person.

At some point, they start up an easy back and forth banter that seems to flow with their moves. Marinette tosses her hair and Nino shoots her a smirk. And it’s so natural.

Adrien feels like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be. He’s an outsider here, he’s only ever heard these beats and rhythms in his free time. He’s never devoted studio time to learning an actual routine. He still hasn’t figured out how to loosen up his body like they have.

It’s a different world of dance. One that he’s been locked out of. He wants in, but he can’t find the key.

So instead, he just watches in wonder from the outside. He realizes he’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Can you do this?” Nino asks, flipping upside spinning on his head.

Marinette scoffs and shakes her head. “No, but can you do a handspring layout step out?”

Nino drops to his knees. “Nope.”

She crosses her arms and smiles. “Then I think we’re even.”

He sighs. “Fair enough. Equals. I can deal with that.”

“Can you really?” Adrien asks from his spot on the floor.

Nino sticks his tongue out at him while offering his hand to Marinette.

She shakes his hand with a victorious smile. If anyone won, she definitely did. Especially with the way she lights up. “Equals.”

* * *

“Is that what you call dancing?” Plagg asks.

“Is that what you call choreography?” Adrien shoots back.

Marinette stifles a laugh before turning her focus back to TIkki.

Adrien blinks in surprise when Plagg elbows him. “Concentrate,” Plagg mutters.

“I am concentrating,” Adrien insists.

“Sure you are. That’s why your arms were in first instead of second.”

“You just changed that, cut me some slack.”

“Never.”

Adrien follows Plagg through the steps, humming the music to himself as Plagg counts the beat. Plagg turns around to turn Adrien towards the corner. “Effacé, kid. Effacé, not en face. Your ego doesn’t need a boost from completely facing the audience.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “Fine, I can work with effacé.”

“Good.” Plagg spins him around and shoves him forward. At the same time, Tikki pushes Marinette.

Adrien grabs her around the waist and she catches herself by putting her hands on his chest. She squeaks and pulls away, bright red. Adrien’s pretty sure he’s the same color.

“S-sorry!” she stutters.

Adrien nods quickly. “Y-yeah, sorry!”

“Not exactly the position we want, but close,” Tikki says with a smile. She winks at Adrien over Marinette’s shoulder.

He’s probably going to die before this is over.

—«·»—

“Maybe warn me next time?” Adrien grumbles to Plagg and Tikki once Marinette’s left the room.

Plagg cackles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“You know we love you,” Tikki coos.

“Yeah right.” Adrien ducks as Tikki tries to ruffle his hair. “Hey!”

“Just looking out for you,” she says with a smile.

* * *

Adrien is done. He’s done. It’s been a long week, and aside from rehearsals with Marinette, he’s done. He’s done with technique and barre and turns and crossing the floor and leaps and fondues and relevé and classical music and _ballet._

He’s reaching a point, but all he can hear is his father’s voice in his head.

He can do better.

“You can do better,” Plagg says.

Adrien is going to scream. “I know I can,” he grumbles.

Plagg crosses his arms and leans against the barre. “So why aren’t you?”

Adrien spreads his arms out. “You tell me!”

Plagg just raises an eyebrow.

Adrien drops his arms and looks away. This isn’t helping. Complaining won’t make him a better dancer. More hours in the studio will. More focus. More training. More… Just more.

He tries the turn sequence again.

It’s no better.

He goes again.

“Go back to your room, Adrien,” Plagg says.

Adrien preps for the turns.

“Adrien.”

His spot is wobbly. He tries to snap his head faster.

“Adrien!” Plagg grabs him by the shoulders as he stumbles out of the turn. “ _Stop_.”

Adrien tries to pull out of Plagg’s grip. “I can’t.”  

“Yes you _can_.” Plagg shakes him a few times. “This isn’t helping, kid. It’s not.”

“Yes it—”

“ _No_.” Plagg turns Adrien towards the door and starts pushing him towards it. “Go back to your room. Sleep. Come back with a clear head.”

“But I—”

“I’m locking you out,” Plagg says flatly.

Adrien looks past him back into the studio. All his failures spread out on the floor, he needs to pick them up.

Plagg pushes him the rest of the way out of the studio. “We both know you’re no good when you start digging yourself into a hole, kid.” He ruffles Adrien’s hair. “Never have been.”

The door shuts with a sickening click.

Adrien swallows thickly.

“Come on,” Plagg wraps his arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “Trust me, your turns will be better in the morning.”

—«·»—

Adrien isn’t sure how he actually gets up to answer the door. Sitting on his bed binge watching anime seems like a much better option than moving. He blinks a few times to make sure that he’s not seeing things. “Nino?”

Nino holds up the pizza box. “Told you I could be here in less than hour with a pizza.”

Adrien steps aside to let Nino in.

“Nice, two beds!”

Adrien shrugs. “It’s not like I use the other.”

“I meant that I won’t have to share with you because I’ve already decided I’m staying the night.”

“Uh… Okay?” Adrien shuts the door. “Your mom’s okay with that?”

“She’s cool with it.” Nino drops down on the bed. “I mean, we’re definitely going to fall asleep at some point during whatever we’re binging.”

“Wait, you _don’t_ want to cuddle with me?” Adrien asks. “I’m kind of offended, honestly.” 

“You say cuddle,” Nino says, opening the pizza box, “I say strangle. Dude, you are _clingy._ ”

“And _you_ are rude.” Adrien grabs a slice of pizza and sits back down with his laptop. “Why’d you come anyway?”

Nino shrugs. “I felt a disturbance in the force.”

Of course.

“Plagg,” they say at the same time.

Adrien sighs and leans back against his headboard. “Plagg worries too much.”

“Usually I’d say you’re right, but you know he doesn’t. Tikki does all the worrying in that relationship. He’s just looking out for you.”

“Everyone is ‘just looking out for me’,” Adrien grumbles.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Nino points out. “Let us care for you, man. You don’t have to be a lone wolf. You’re allowed to get support from other people.”

Adrien sighs.

“Plus, we’ve been getting behind on our list of stuff to watch with you being away. I figured we could use tonight to start to catch up.” Nino grabs another slice of pizza and switches to the bed Adrien’s sitting on. “Move over, you’re stealing all the blankets.”

* * *

Adrien sighs and runs his hand through his hair. At least he can say today was productive.

He can’t say it was good. He can say it was better.

It wasn’t good. It didn’t feel good, it didn’t seem good, and it was _not_ good. But it was better. He didn’t get the urge to hit the mirror or keep turning until he was bleeding, and that was better. He didn’t get so frustrated that he had a hard time thinking straight.

It wasn’t good. It was productive.

Plagg had kept going with the choreography. There were slight changes that Adrien embraced the best he could and corrections he took in stride. He can feel the music a little more in his body than the day before.

It was better. It was productive. It wasn’t good, but it’s getting there.

He can say all that. And that’s enough for now.

He scoops up his bag and shuts off the lights as he opens the door. He’s surprised to hear voices as he shuts the studio door behind him.

Marinette is sitting with her back to him, laptop on her crossed legs. She waves her arms wildly as she talks to whoever she’s video chatting with. He smiles himself as she groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. There’s something about Marinette, even when she’s at her wildest and most excited, that’s undeniably calming. Something that makes happiness bloom in his chest, no matter how hard he tries to suppress it.

“Fondue fondue fondue fondue!” she exclaims. “How many times can I fondue before I turn to melted cheese?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marley - a type of black flooring that a lot of dance studios use. it's easy to pull up and move around (and has a spring floor under it usually), but if you use rosin on it, it'll get really slippery after a while, so rosin is a no go  
> effacé - a body position where the legs look open when seen from the front  
> en face - a body position where the dancer is facing the audience straight on, face to face  
> [ballet positions of the body if you would like some visuals](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxUs3ky8EDc) (better than my crappy explanation)  
> also [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4Wfy4yDK1M&index=54&list=PLhDNezxilJS7Bdh_FSnUEuG3-9IlEz4iY) video is gorgeous please watch it because I've been watching it nonstop!!
> 
> Favorite thing: everyone hearing the music of the hip hop dance and sprinting across the room while kicking off their ballet flats and pulling up their tights to go do it. People pulling out their buns during the routine so they can properly whip their hair around. Leotards getting pulled down because we were for some reason allergic to them if not in ballet. Sometimes I miss dance
> 
> Also, I found that those frustrating rehersals increased a lot when I didn't want to be dancing so much anymore. They're the worst and I hate them and there's a lot of wanting to cry involved. It's not fun for anyone involved. :/
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://buglad.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) (and you can reblog this there!) <3


	9. grand battement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first 'lift' in [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4Wfy4yDK1M&index=54&list=PLhDNezxilJS7Bdh_FSnUEuG3-9IlEz4iY) is what marinette and adrien are working on with tikki and plagg. other than that, i'll let the chapter speak for itself. see you in the end notes. 
> 
> enjoy~

Marinette has resigned herself to sitting in the lobby of the studio. She doesn’t mind, not too much, she’s just a little irritated. Mostly at herself. She should’ve known Chloé wouldn’t let her hide away in the bathroom for forever and unfortunately the bathroom has a tub built into the shower. Chloé was ‘destressing’.

Fair enough. Marinette can handle destressing. She can’t handle Chloé’s even sharper looks and harsh glares. The way she clings to Adrien like a leech. There’s more of an edge to her remarks and despite the armor Marinette has thrown up, Chloé’s words are making dents.

“I swear,” Marinette grumbles to Alya, “I’m going to fouetté right out of the room.” She can feel her shoes falling to pieces with each rotation. She has her shoes for the performance safely in her room, but she’d really underestimated how much wear and tear her shoes would go through. She has three pairs of pointe shoes and a pair of performance shoes, but in nearly three weeks she’s already gone through one. She knew professional ballerinas went through pointe shoes fast, but she hadn't realized how fast. She’s never actually destroyed a pair of pointe shoes like she has that first pair. Just thinking about it makes her mourn her feet. Goodbye open toed shoes, she enjoyed them while they lasted.

“You love turning,” Alya says, glancing up from her journal. “Don’t lie to me, Mar. Nooroo could make you do a million turns and you’d still love it. It’s not like they’re fondues.”

Marinette groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fondue fondue fondue fondue!” She throws her arms out. “How many times can I fondue before I turn to melted cheese?!”

Alya snorts and looks up.

“They were _so slow_ , Al,” she complains, running her hand through her hair. “It was like a Dalí painting, time was literally _melting_.”

“Uh, Mari—”

“If we were going any slower time would have actually stopped.”

Alya shakes her head. “Marinette you—”

“ _Stopped_ , Alya. We could’ve actually gone back in—”

Alya waves and says, “Hey, Adrien!” loudly.

Marinette freezes, feeling her face start to heat up. Oh. Oh _no_.

She frantically types _WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!?!???!?!?!?_ into the chat. She mutes her mic and yanks her headphones out of her ears as Alya starts laughing. “Adrien!” Marinette gasps as she twists around. “I-I didn’t see you there!”

He smiles and waves again at Alya. “I didn’t realize anyone was still here,” he admits. “Why are you sitting out here anyway?”

“I-I…” Marinette looks back to Alya. Alya winks and Marinette slams her laptop shut before everything goes horribly wrong. “I just like t-to talk to Alya! Alone! And um…well usually I hide out in the bathroom and Chloé’s using it right now so I just sort of ended up here because I didn’t know where else to go and now I uh…” She trails off and twists her earrings. “Yup.”

“You need an empty room?” Adrien asks.

Marinette shakes her head. “No no no I don’t—”

“Because I don’t share a room with anyone, so if you ever need a room, you can use mine.”

She blinks a few times then looks up at him. “What?”

Adrien shrugs off his bag and sits down next to her. “I have an empty room. You’re free to use it if I’m in the studio, or even if you just want to hide out in the bathroom if that’d make you more comfortable.”

Marinette scrambles for some sort of response. Her mind is shutting down but screaming and flashing red all at the same time. The only thought that she can grab onto is, "You have your own room?"

He rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I wasn’t actually supposed to come here this summer. It was a last minute thing. So all the rooms were filled. But since my father threw so much money at them,” Adrien shrugs, “I got in and got my own room.”

“Sounds nice.” She misses having her own room. More than she thought she would.

“Kind of lonely, actually,” he admits. “But if you ever want to use my room, you’re welcome to.”

She shakes her head. “I couldn't ask that of you—”

“You’re not.” Adrien smiles. “I’m offering.”  

“M-maybe next time.” Marinette forces a smile and hopes that he can’t tell that she is mentally screaming. And panicking. Just a bit.

“Whenever you’d like. My door’s always open.”

"Y-yeah, thanks!" She ducks her head, cheeks burning.

* * *

“Almost there, Marinette!” Tikki claps her hands together. “If you spin just a little bit faster, you’ll step out just in time to chassé!”

Marinette puts her hands on her hips to catch her breath. “Is that all?”

Tikki nods. “It’ll fix your timing problem. And that should also fix your problems with the footwork in that next part. I think your biggest problem was that you were rushing to fit it in before the échappé. We can go over it again if you’d like."

“Yes,” Plagg says. “Because Adrien over here was on the wrong foot.” He jerks his thumb toward Adrien.

Adrien rolls his eyes and squirts his water bottle at Plagg.

Plagg jerks away from him. “Okay, just for that I’m adding in another fondue.”

“Like you weren’t going to do that anyway,” Adrien scoffs. “And I _know_ , right foot, not left. I’m sorry.”

Tikki clucks her tongue. “It’s just a rehearsal. Don’t beat yourself up because Plagg is in a bad mood.” She motions for Adrien to come over. “Let’s go once it more.”

Marinette follows Tikki carefully, focusing on her turnout and technique. It works well until Adrien wraps his arm around her waist and dips her back. She arches backward and touches her hands to the ground. They hold the position as Tikki and Plagg critique them and adjust them.

“You okay?” Adrien asks as he pulls Marinette to stand.

She grabs onto his arm as the blood rushes from her head. She laughs, slightly breathless from being upside down. “Just a little light headed.”

He smiles to her as Plagg moves on, using Tikki to show Adrien how the rest of the lift was going to work.

As Adrien dips Marinette again, she realizes she’s been spending a lot of time light headed recently.

* * *

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” Marinette says quickly, bouncing up and down on her toes as Adrien unlocks his door. “Really sorry. I just…” She bites her lip. “I’m really sorry.”

“Why?” Adrien asks, looking back at her. “I told you could use my room. Or bathroom. I don’t mind.”

She shrugs and follows him in as he opens the door. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Marinette,” he turns around and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

She sighs. “Okay. I won’t be too long.”

Adrien shakes his head. “Take as much time as you’d like.”

Marinette ducks into the bathroom and shuts the door, slumping against it and burying her face in her hands. Her face is burning and Alya is going to be able to tell. She lifts her head with a deep breath and sinks to the floor. She pulls out her laptop and opens Skype.

The second she changes her status to online, Alya calls.

“Kill me,” Alya says immediately.

“Through the computer?” Marinette asks.

Alya groans and drops her head to her desk. “I hate this assignment.”

Marinette makes herself more comfortable on the floor. “You chose it.”

“Yes,” Alya grumbles. “And I regret it.”

“Mhm.” Marinette rests her chin in her hands. “So how was your day?”

“Not as good as yours probably,” Alya says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Didn’t _someone_ have production rehearsal today?”

Marinette turns pink and glances away. “ _Alya_ …”

Alya snorts. “Come on, how was Prince Charming?”

“It’s just a _dance_ ,” Marinette insists. “And he was fine. He was great. _I_ was the problem.”

“No you weren’t,” Alya says automatically.

“Hey, you don’t even know what happened.” Marinette slumps back against the door. “I just…I messed up some of the steps. That’s all. And then later during my solo I was just dizzy… It wasn’t my best day, that’s all.”

“Dizzy?” Alya asks. She leans forward. “Have you been staying hydrated?” Her voice is drenched in concern.

“Yes,” Marinette says.

“Are you _sure_ ?” Alya adjusts her glasses. “Have you been drinking _enough_?”

“Yes, mother.”

“I just don’t want a repeat of last year.”

Marinette sighs and pulls a water bottle out of her bag. She holds the half empty bottle up to Alya before downing the rest of it.

Alya nods. “And you’ll drink something before going to bed?”

“Yeah. You want a picture of me doing that?” Marinette asks, raising her eyebrows.

Alya rolls her eyes as Marinette laughs. “I’m not _that_ much of a mom.”   

“You sure?” Marinette teases.

Alya sticks her tongue out at her. “I mom the perfect amount, thank you very much.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “ _Of course_. But really, how was your day?”

Alya sighs. “Buckle up, it was a _joy_.”

—«·»—

“Thank you,” Marinette says.

“Anytime,” Adrien says with a smile. Muffled words come from his headphones and he rolls his eyes and shushes Nino before turning down the volume. “I’ll see y—”

Marinette’s phone starts ringing. She frowns and pulls it out of her pocket. Shaking her head as she answers it, mouthing, ‘Sorry’, to Adrien. “Alya?”

Adrien smiles and ducks his head.

 _“I NEED TO SKYPE YOU,”_ Alya shouts.

Marinette pulls the phone away from her ear in surprise. “Um…why?”

_“It’s important!”_

Marinette rubs the bridge of her nose. “Do you need to Skype—”

 _“Important, Mari. I have_ graphics _.”_

“Graphics,” Marinette repeats. She drops her bag on the bed with a sigh and pulls out her laptop. “Once I get on, you have one minute.”

 _“Okay, rude,_ ” Alya says. _“What if this pitch is longer than a minute?”_

“Pitch?” Marinette looks over to Adrien. He gives her a thumbs up, as does Nino on his screen.

_“You’re on! I’m calling!”_

“Wait hold on I haven’t—” Marinette stares at the screen of her phone as Alya hangs up. “Oh.” Alya’s call pops up on her laptop. “Uh…”

“Go ahead,” Adrien says. “I don’t mind.”

Marinette hits answer without thinking, realizing too late her headphones aren’t plugged in.

“A WEBSITE!” Alya shouts, throwing her arms out.

Marinette leans away from her screen in surprise. “What?”

Alya holds up a pile of papers. “A _website_.”

Marinette sits down on the bed. “Why?”

“I was working on adding a page to your parents’ website, and then I got bored and was making backgrounds, and then I was using like pointe shoe pink, and then I started thinking of ballet, and then—”

“You thought of me,” Marinette interrupts. “And somehow that got you to ‘make Marinette a website’?”

Alya nods. “Yes.”

“Bad idea.”

“Great idea,” Adrien says.

Marinette looks up from her screen. “I don’t— Why do I ne—”

“Wait, who is that?” Alya leans closer like that will make her see any more of the room.

Marinette spins the laptop around and Adrien waves at the screen.

“Hey, marshmallow!” Alya says. “Just the person I wanted to see!”

“Me?” Adrien asks.

“Yup! I have a job for you.”

Marinette’s eyes widen. “Wait, Alya, n—”

“I need to make sure that Mari’s drinking enough,” Alya interrupts.

Adrien looks up at Marinette. “Uh…sure?”

“Great, thank you!”

Marinette groans. “ _Al_ …”

“Shush you aren’t ending up in the hospital again.”

“The _hospital_?” Adrien glances from Alya to Marinette.

“It was nothing,” Marinette says quickly. “I was just a little dehydrated.”

“‘Just a little.’” Alya scoffs. “Wait,” Marinette looks over the laptop to see Alya frowning, “why is Adrien in your room?”

Marinette bites her lip. “…he ’s not.”

“She’s in my room,” Adrien says as Marinette picks up the laptop to join him on the desk.

Alya raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

Marinette thinks the best course of action is melting into the floor. “Chloé,” she mutters.

“Right right.” Alya throws the papers over shoulder. “Like I was saying! Website.”

“I don’t need one,” Marinette insists.

“Okay, but consider this, I’m bored.” Alya rests her chin on her hands. “I think it’d be great. We could put up all your designs and costumes and videos and it’ll be _great_. Plus I could practice my website designing…”

Marinette groans as Alya furrows her eyebrows. “Don’t do it, Al.”

“Do what?” Alya asks innocently she pouts.

Marinette looks away— right at Adrien, who’s trying not to laugh. “Don’t start,” she grumbles.

On Adrien’s screen, Nino gives her a confused look.

She risks turning back to Alya, who’s still making that face. “I cannot _believe_ you picked up Manon’s puppy dog eyes.”

“I promise it won’t take that long,” Alya says.

“Why couldn’t we have discussed this like ten minutes ago?”

“I forgot,” Alya admits with a shrug. “We were talking about other stuff. And then I found my papers a— oh! When you get back: photoshoot.”

Marinette kneels down on the floor. This is going to take a while. “Why?”

“Uh because I need to get really incredible pictures of your tutu? _Obviously_ .” Alya holds up another piece of paper. “I have a _plan_ , Marinette. Trust me on that one.”

Nino waves his arms wildly.

“What is it?” Adrien asks after turning up the volume.

Marinette doesn’t catch Nino’s response through Adrien’s headphones, but Alya continues to hold up different page designs. “How badly did you not want to write earlier?” Marinette asks.

Alya gives her an offended look. “How dare you accuse me of such—”

“My dad kicked you out of the kitchen, didn’t he?”

Alya drops her arms. “You weren’t there, that is pure speculation.”

“What was pure speculation?” Nino asks.

Marinette looks up to see Adrien with his headphone cord in hand.

He gives her sheepish smile. “Nino felt left out.”

“Who is Nino?” Alya asks.

Adrien and Marinette turn their laptops toward each other. Nino waves at Alya. “Sup.”

Alya nods before holding up her papers again. “Like I was _saying_ , do you want to tell me where your super secret stash of sketchbooks is?”

“No,” Marinette says immediately.

“But—”

“Those are a mess!”

“You can clean them up when you get home I just need placeholders!”

“Make them yourself! And don’t you _dare_ go looking for my tutu.” Marinette points a finger at the screen.

Alya holds up her hands in surrender. “Like I would ever. You spent _way_ too long on that for me to even consider breathing on it.”

“Wait, dude, did you _sew_ your own tutu?” Nino asks.

Marinette turns pink and sits back on her heels, ducking down below the webcams’ view. Down here, no one can see her blush.

“What, Mari’s never just pulled out a corset and started working on it around you before?” Alya teases.

Nino snorts as Marinette buries her face in her hands.

“It was _one time_ , Al,” she groans.

“I’ve never actually seen any of Marinette’s work,” Adrien says. Marinette looks up as he pushes his chair away from his desk, taking his laptop in his arms and joining her on the floor. “I haven’t had the pleasure.” He gives her a bright smile and yup, it’s time to die.

“You _haven’t_?!” Alya nearly shouts.

Adrien reaches up to take Marinette’s laptop off the top of the desk and Marinette is blissfully free from Adrien’s gaze. She can breathe again, but at the same time, she’s never going to catch her breath.

“Never,” Adrien says as he puts the laptop next to his own.

“ _Mari_ ,” Alya says pointedly.

Marinette looks away. “I didn’t have anything to show him.”

Alya rolls her eyes. “Marshmallow, I need your number.”

“Marshmallow,” Nino repeats with a raised eyebrow.

Adrien pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Why?”

“So I can spam you with pictures of Mari’s designs. Come on, ballet boy, the number.”

“Yo, wait, I wanna see,” Nino says.

“Alya—” Marinette starts, before getting shushed by Alya.

“Okay, Adrien go.” Alya types Adrien and Nino’s numbers into her phone then mutters to herself, “They’re around here somewhere…”

“Can you at least wait until I’m _not_ in the room?” Marinette asks.

“Too late, already sent,” Alya says with a smile.

Marinette frowns when she hears her text tone.

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: Unknown Number, Unknown Number, cupcake queen ✌  
**      #mariisagreatdesigner2kforeveranddontyouforgetit

**the greatest person ever has changed the name of this conversation to **‘nerd squad 101’.****

Marinette scrolls through all the pictures Alya sent, hoping she’s not too red. “Really?” she mumbles.

“Pure talent,” Alya insists.

Mostly, Marinette is trying not to think too hard about the fact that she now has Adrien’s phone number. She glances up at Alya, who winks. Alya always has a plan.

Nino lets out a low whistle. “Bro, did you make all of these?”

“Yes,” Marinette says before Alya can get another word out. “I always figured it ballet didn’t work out I could go into the fashion industry. Which—”

“Backup plan of the backup plan,” Alya interrupts. “If all else fails, we live in a box together.”

Nino points to Adrien. “I am falling on you and you better catch me, man. Trust fall.”

Adrien shakes his head. “You’ll be fine, Nino.”

“Okay but I’m still going to crash on your couch.”

Adrien stops scrolling through his phone. “Wait, you _made_ this?” He turns his screen to show Marinette the picture. She didn’t even have to see it to know which one he was talking about.

“I made all of them,” Marinette promises as she takes the phone from him. She clicks the picture and zooms in on the skirt. “It took me over one hundred hours, and I never want to steam anything ever again.” She traces her thumb over the lines of the red tutu. The ladybug costume had taken _forever_ , but she didn’t regret a minute of it. It had been experimental and costly, but she learned a lot in the process, and there was something magical about wearing and dancing in a tutu you made for yourself. “Alya and my mom had to help with some of the fittings.”

“Ooo the tutu?” Alya coos. “That’s my favorite.”

“I can see why,” Nino says. “Dude this is _awesome_.”

“I don’t have any pictures from the back,” Alya says. “But, the back is my favorite part.” She bats her eyes at Marinette. “Do you have any sketches?”

Marinette sighs. “You’re lucky that was the first thing I drew in this sketchbook and with all my classes I haven’t been able to fill this one up yet.” She tugs her sketchbook out of her bag and opens the front cover. She snaps a few pictures and sends them off in the group chat before handing the sketchbook to Adrien.

“I just sort of,” she waves her hand, “had an idea and went for it? I mean the sketch is sort of different from what it actually turned out to be but the wing covers are still there, and the lace up back is a little different stitching wise and the ribbon is black instead of red—”

“I love it,” Adrien says. He meets her eyes and smiles at her.

Marinette blinks. When they had bent over her sketchbook, they had gotten a lot closer than she realized. “T-thanks.”

“This is rad,” Nino interrupts.

Marinette turns away from Adrien, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting her lip. Alya wiggles her eyebrows at her. “D-des-designing it too like a month because I kept changing how I wanted it to look. That’s the, uh, most final design. And um…yeah, then I just sort of…did it?”

“It’s beautiful,” Adrien murmurs. “Are there any others in here that I can see?”

“I have to go,” Alya says. “My shift starts in fifteen. But I’ll text you.”

“Me?” Nino asks, looking up from his phone in surprise.

Alya blinks. “I meant…” Marinette holds back a laugh as Alya turns red. “Bye.” Alya ends her call suddenly.

“Bye,” Marinette says to her blank screen with a snort.

“I have to go,” Nino says in a slightly confused voice.

Adrien frowns. “I thought you—”

“Last minute extra rehearsal because we’re missing one next week,” Nino says quickly. His phone vibrates and he answers it as he gives a thumbs up. “Why are you calling me?” he asks as he hangs up the Skype call.

“Uh…” Adrien slowly shuts his laptop. “Okay…?”

Marinette checks her phone as it beeps.

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: cupcake queen ✌  
**      ur welcome ;)  
     get him girl  
     and dont text back until you do

 _Of course_.

“D-did you want to…?” Marinette motions vaguely to her sketchbook.

“If there’s anything you’re okay with me seeing.” He holds out the sketchbook to her.

Marinette takes it and mindlessly flips through. Nothing catches her eye. “Um, anything in here,” she says. She skips the first few scribbled out costumes and opens it to a Giselle doodle.

“You don’t mind?”

She shakes her head and tugs on the end of her hair. “N-not at all.” She texts Alya rapidly as Adrien slowly makes his way through her designs. She tries to ignore the fact that he’s studying her designs so carefully.

 **From: cupcake queen ✌  
** **To: the greatest person ever  
**      HELP!!!!  
     WHY WOULD YOUD O THIS OT ME

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: cupcake queen ✌  
**      did u get the boy

 **From: cupcake queen ✌  
** **To: the greatest person ever  
**      NO  
     BUT ALYA PLEASE  
     SOS

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: cupcake queen ✌  
**      dude????  
     i said dont text me until youve got the guy  
     bye

 **From: cupcake queen ✌  
** **To: the greatest person ever  
**      WAIT ALYA  
     ALYA NO  
     PLEASE  
     COME BACK  
     ALYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Marinette groans and puts her phone down. At this point, Alya is probably at the bakery and she is stubborn enough that she really won’t respond.

“Is this…me?”

Marinette freezes and stares at the drawing that Adrien is pointing to. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh _no_ . “Uh… W-well _technically_ it’s P-prince Siegfried?” She does not remember doing this _she does not remember doing this._ “I-I-I think I used a p-picture of yours? As, like, a reference. For the…pose. I-I’m sorry that’s weird!” She forces a laugh. “Really weird.” Adrien doesn’t say anything, and she thinks she might actually die.

Adrien hums softly after a few seconds. “You’d make a good Odette.” He flips the page.

Marinette combusts.       

—«·»—

The second she leaves Adrien’s room she calls Alya.

“ _You’re lucky, I just got o—_ ”

“Alya, he said I’d make a nice Odette,” Marinette says calmly.

“ _Uh… Oka—”_

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”

* * *

Marinette takes a deep breath and stuffs her phone in her pocket. Her hand has been resting on the doorknob for about thirty seconds as she reread Tikki’s message. The fact that the blinds on the door’s window are shut isn’t helping. She can hear the instrumental music and see the light under the door, but that’s all the information she has. She doesn’t know what she’s walking into.

She can _do_ _this_.

She pushes the door open the smallest crack and peers inside.

Adrien jumps out of a turn sequence. His motions are sharp and almost violent, lacking the smooth control they usually have. She can see the frustration in his movements. She wants to grab him by the shoulders and tell him to _stop_.

Adrien catches himself on the barre as he careens toward the wall. He hangs his head as he pants, pressing the base of his palm to his forehead. As he moves to straighten and go back to the center, Marinette pushes the door completely open.

Now or never.

Adrien whirls toward the door. “M-marinette! Did— did we have a rehearsal today?” His eyes are wide and startled and…scared?  

Marinette’s heart stops for a beat. She wrings her hands and hangs back in the doorway. “Oh um, no. W-we didn’t. Tikki and Plagg texted me and… Well, they asked me to get you out of the studio.”

He grips the barre tightly before pushing away, pointedly not looking at Marinette. “I’m fine, really. Just getting in some extra practice,” he says through gritted teeth.  

There’s something about him that makes her nervous. Not for herself, but for him. Adrien is a star. Bright, burning, brilliant. But he’s going to burn himself out. And if there is even the smallest chance that she can stop him and she _doesn’t_ — Marinette would never forgive herself. She would hate herself for letting someone so blinding go dim.

Adrien starts to prep for a turn and something in her snaps.

She steps forward into the room, dropping her bag to the floor and closing the door behind her with a slam. The sudden noise makes him look to her in surprise.

“Adrien,” she says firmly, “I love dance as much as you do, and I spend a ridiculous amount of time in the studio, although maybe not as much as you, but…” She shakes her head. “You need to get out of here. Plagg says you’ve been here all day and— Adrien, it’s almost ten o’clock. I’m only here because I _started_ my solo practice at eight thirty. You… You need to sleep and eat and play video games with Nino and… At some point, you have to leave the studio and go home.”

Adrien’s shoulders sag. “Don’t you get it, Marinette? This _is_ my home. Dance is the only thing I’ve had constant throughout my whole life. Through thick and thin, for better and for worse, I am basically married to this,” he throws his arms out in an all encompassing gesture. “This…” He drops his arms. “I…” He squeezes his eyes shut and sinks to the floor. “This is my home,” he repeats, softer. Less sure.

“Adrien…” Marinette crosses the floor and sits down next to him. “I can’t pretend to entirely understand where you’re coming from. I can partially get it, but never fully. But that doesn’t change the fact that you need to at least eat.”

He stares straight ahead with a blank expression on his face. “I’ll order food.”

“Eat and sleep and shower and rest and get out of _this,_ ” she waves her hand around. “Didn’t you say you wanted to break away from ballet?”

“I—” Adrien stops himself. She can feel the hesitation in the way he breathes. “Yeah… I-I do. Then whenever I think about losing this constant in my life— I get scared.”

“Scared?”

He seems to sink on himself. “Yeah. This is the only thing I’ve got left that connects me to my dad. That connects me to my mom and F— I do this because my dad wants me to. And sure, he wants me to do piano and Chinese and I know part of him wishes I could somehow fit in fencing too. But ballet? It’s always been that one solid connection that we had. And I don’t… I _can’t_ lose my dad.”

Marinette remembers when her father realized that as much as she loved baking, it wasn’t her passion. If he was disappointed, he never showed it. All he’d done was show her endless support for her dancing and her designs. “Adrien,” she says softly, “I would really hope you don’t lose your father over something like you wanting to be happier. …And…as much as I can tell that you love dance, and I can I tell that you really do love ballet, you just… Your eyes don’t light up the same way they do when we we’re goofing around. When we video chat Nino and Alya. When I teach you silly modern moves and acro tricks and…weird turns.”

“Maybe it’s just because it’s new,” he mumbles. “And different. And it’ll wear off.”

Time to backtrack a little bit. “I’m not saying stop doing ballet completely. I’m saying you need a break, and you need to go home and sleep. Because Plagg and Tikki refuse to have another rehearsal with us — with _you_ — until you get a full eight hours of rest and at least two meals and a lot of water in you.” Marinette watches his expression carefully.

Adrien’s eyebrows furrow. There’s something in his eyes that she can’t name. He glances to her. “Really?” he asks hesitantly.

Marinette presses a hand to her chest. “I swear. I have to give them direct updates especially on what you eat, when you leave the studio, if you shower, if you’re drinking water—”

“Basically you’re my babysitter,” Adrien interrupts. His voice is a little bit bitter, and it makes her draw back on herself. At the same time, it makes her almost angry.

“There’s no babysitting here,” she says, trying to keep any bite out of her voice. She’s not babysitting, she’s just being a _friend_ . “We’re both looking of for each other here. I’m making sure you sleep and eat and _you’re_ making sure I drink enough and don’t end up hospitalized. Remember?”

“If I shower?” he says with a lopsided smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s a start. It makes it a little bit easier to breathe.

“I’m going by how much you smell,” Marinette teases.  

He laughs softly then sighs. “This might take a while.”

“Okay.”

Adrien straightens in surprise. “What?”

Marinette shrugs. “Okay. I’m okay with that. I don’t really care how long it takes. I’m okay with taking care of you and helping you through this. And I don’t really understand and I don’t know if I ever will, but you don’t have to tell me a thing. But I am okay with forcing you to leave the studio and making you eat some food, keeping you hydrated, keeping you somewhat clean and hygienic, and making sure you get some rest. You’re my friend. It’s what friends do for each other.”

“Thank you.” He curls back up on himself, resting his chin on his knees.

Part way there. Now she just needs to get him out of the studio. “Of course. Now come on,” she says as she stands. “Let’s go home.”  

She says home. She means back to their rooms, but for some reason, _home_ sounds better.

“I’m…going to stay here for a little bit longer. If you don’t mind,” he says. He turns his head to rest his cheek on his knees.

Marinette groans internally. This isn’t working.

She had considered texting Nino for help before she came in. She hadn’t because she was sure she could handle this on her own. Now she wishes she had.

She searches her mind for something, _anything_ , that could get Adrien out of here. Or at least on his feet. Something that’ll get his mind out of whatever cage it’s trapped itself in. Something that’ll put him at ease and let him breathe easy again.

Marinette and Adrien aren’t the same person, but there is one thing that comes to mind that is always relaxing. She’s not sure if professional ballet dancers do it, but the point isn’t to be a professional right now. The point is to enjoy dancing and just _let go_.

“I’m fine with that.” Marinette walks over to the stereo and plugs her phone in, flipping through her playlists. She choses her contemporary/modern/lyrical mashup playlist of songs that she’s kind of just thrown together that she just feels fit right. She’s not sure how to describe it. It’s sort of her sentimental, nostalgic, ‘I need to dance _badly_ but with feeling’ playlist.

The music floats softly through the speakers. She flicks off the lights as she passes the switch. The only light in the room comes from under the door. Adrien is just a dark figure on the floor. Perfect.

“Come on.”  

“What?” Adrien asks, confused. She can understand it. It always takes her a minute or two to really get into improv.  

“Improv,” she says, pulling into a compass turn. “Come on.” She pulls him to his feet.

“What do you mean?”

“Just _improvise_ .” There’s no good way to explain improv. Marinette’s never found a way and she doesn’t think she ever will. It’s all about feeling the music and just _going_. You can’t be good at improv and you can’t be bad. All you can do is be confident in your movements. “I won’t watch, I swear. That’s why the lights are off. Just…move. Dance like no one’s watching, because no one is.” She shoots him a smile even though she knows he can hardly see it.

“Um…”

She’s no longer giving him a choice. The first time someone improvs is always a little nerve-wracking, especially when it’s across the room while everyone’s watching. Marinette long ago learned to shut everyone else out while she’s improving. To stop thinking and let her body just do _whatever_.

“It’s easy,” she insists. “just do what the music tells you to. Come on.” Marinette takes Adrien’s hands in her own, leading him in a few steps. “I promise it’s not hard.”

When Adrien seems to find his footing in the music, Marinette lets go of his hands to chaîné away. She’s acutely aware of where Adrien is at all times, what he’s doing, how he’s moving. She loses herself in the music but at the same time she’s overly present, overly aware.

She leaps past him as he bends to the floor and she _knows_ this is different than improv usually is for her. Usually she’s aware of the bodies, not the people. She could improv with her eyes basically closed, that’s what dancing in the dark simulates. She puts only a tiny fraction of her focus on other people, enough so there are no collisions.

And yet right now, she’s passing Adrien with just inches between them. He catches her hand as she lifts her leg up in an arabesque and her breath catches in her throat. Marinette keeps a tight grasp on the music as they spin. They adjust and turn and dance together. It’s less dancing together and more of dancing as _one_.

Once, Marinette’s teacher had had them partner improv across the floor. It was a mess of tangled limbs and giggles. The goal was to always be touching in some way, and most groups had ended up on the floor at some point. To be so in tune with someone else that you could predict their movements in some sort of way to be right there for them was difficult. A fun team building exercise, but nothing ever taken too seriously.

Whatever this is with Adrien— she’s trying not to think about it too much. She doesn’t want to lose this. This connection that she can’t explain, she just _knows_ where the two of them are going next.

They had been doing well on their duet, but there had been something missing. As they pause, Adrien’s arm wrapped tight around Marinette’s waist, she wonders if whatever this is is that missing piece.

The music starts to fade out as the song ends.

Adrien ducks his head. They’re close, they’re so close— just a breath away. And she just…freezes. Her heart thumps, she can feel it in her ears, it’s all she can hear.

Adrien stares at her, and she stares back. She doesn’t know what he’s going to do. This whole time, she hasn’t known what he was going to do— what she was going to do. They were just trapped in the music. And the music is gone now.

He watches her for a second more and then pulls her into a tight hug. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and she hugs back just as tight. She can feels his tears on her neck. She tries to tell him somehow, in someway, that she’s right here for him.

Adrien pulls away as the next song starts up, soft and mellow and full of strings. He lifts Marinette’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. There’s something different about this all too common gesture of his. His eyes are too sad, missing their usually cockiness and laughter.

No, that’s wrong. That sadness has always been there. It’s just been masked by other emotions.

Adrien lets go of her hand, moving into a pas de chat and then dancing away into the dark.

Marinette holds her hand where he left it for another second more before cradling it to her chest. She spins away from the direction Adrien had moved in with a pencil turn, trying to find herself in the music again.

The next time Adrien catches her, he whispers, “thank you”.

—«·»—

 **From: cupcake queen ✌ / adrien’s gf  
** **To: the greatest person ever, Nino  
**      Uh… ok so alya said she wanted updates. I guess the update is I got adrien out of the studio??

**the greatest person ever has changed the name of this conversation to ‘nerd squad minus marshmallow’.**

**From: Nino  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**      wow

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**      let me live snapback  
     anyway mari is that an accomplishment???

Marinette glances over to Adrien. He’s pulling on a sweatshirt as she unplugs her phone and turns off the stereo. Nino answers before she can.

 **From: Nino  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**      yes

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**      hello i was not speaking to you  
     but now i want to know more

 **From: Nino  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**      ok rude??  
     now im not gonna tell you

Marinette rolls her eyes as Adrien stands and pulls his bag on.

 **From: cupcake queen ✌ / adrien’s gf  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**      I’m saying its an accomplishment

 **From: Nino  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
     ** bro how bad

 **From: cupcake queen ✌ / adrien’s gf  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
     ** According to tikki and plagg most of today

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**       yikes  
     rip marshmallow

 **From: Nino  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
     ** i shouldve known something was up when he wasnt responding

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**      u had rehearsal u cant blame urself  
     i mean u can  
     but its not like u couldve done anything

 **From: cupcake queen ✌ / adrien’s gf  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**       No blaming anyone  
     I’m taking him back to his room now

 **From: Nino  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**       youre the best  
     ill skype him

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: nerd squad minus marshmallow  
**       marinette dupain cheng  
     too good for this world

Marinette shakes her head and puts her phone in her bag. “Ready?” she asks, holding out a hand. She knows that he’ll come mostly willing now, but she _will_ drag him out of the studio if she has to.

Adrien takes it, lacing their fingers together and hold tight. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

Marinette pulls him out of the room and shuts the door firmly behind them. “Do you know how to lock up?” She holds up a key. “Because I have a key and no idea what I’m doing.”

He laughs softly and pulls out his own key. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this plenty of times.” He leads her through locking up, shutting off lights and turning things down. He holds her hand tightly throughout the whole process.

“All done,” he murmurs, locking the main door to the studio. He keeps his hand on the key in the lock, eyes downcast.

“All done,” Marinette repeats. She gently puts her free hand over Adrien’s, pulling the key from the lock. She moves his hand away from the door and closes his fist around the key. “We can go home now.”

Adrien squeezes the key in his palm tightly. “Yeah.”

She leads him back to his room. She can feel her phone buzzing against her side, but she’s going to keep ignoring it. Nino and Alya can yell at each other for a while. She’ll text Tikki and Plagg when she gets back to her room and then skim through Alya and Nino’s conversation as she falls asleep.

Adrien takes a shaky breath when they stop at his door.

“See you tomorrow?” Marinette asks carefully. She kind of doesn’t want to let go of his hand, but she knows that Nino will be waiting for Adrien on Skype. He won’t be alone.

Adrien nods. “See you tomorrow.”

She lets go of his hand. It feels empty and cold as she walks down the hall to her room. Each movement feels wrong, like she’s missing something.

She puts on her playlist as she falls onto her bed. Sabrina and Aurore are asleep, and Chloé is reading on the bathroom floor for the light. Chloé had risen an eyebrow at Marinette as she got ready for bed, but hadn’t said anything. Marinette rolls over away from the bathroom as she scrolls through all of the text messages she missed from Nino and Alya. She skips a large portion of the conversation that just seems to be flirting (although they’ll both probably deny that) and goes to the end where they apologized for blowing up her phone and went text each other directly and not through the group chat.

Marinette sends a quick update to Tikki and Plagg. She doesn’t think they’ll respond anytime soon. Plagg likes to sleep and Tikki had seemed exhausted by the end of rehearsals today. Marinette can’t blame her. Her music softens as her text tone chimes cheerfully. She clicks away from the app she was mindlessly playing to read Nino’s text.

 **From: Nino  
** **To: adrien’s gf  
**       im on skype with adrien now  
     thanks dude

 **From: adrien’s gf  
** **To: Nino  
     ** Of course

 **From: Nino  
** **To: adrien’s gf  
**       sleep well and dont worry about him too much  
     ive got him my dude  
     were streaming anime until he passes out

Marinette smiles to herself.

 **From: adrien’s gf  
** **To: Nino  
**       I’ll try  
      Thank you  
     And have fun

 **From: Nino  
** **To: adrien’s gf  
**       no problem bro  
     night

Marinette locks her phone and slides it under her pillow. She’s drifting off to sleep when the song changes and she sits up with a start. She takes her phone back out and checks the playlist. Her mess of modern songs playlist, her nostalgic and emotional playlist, her soft and gentle playlist. Her ‘dance badly because no one is watching’ playlist. Her improv playlist.

Her and Adrien’s playlist.

She clutches her phone to her chest and falls back onto her pillows. That empty feeling in the hallway, she can’t name it. But she does know why she felt so empty.

Marinette lets the music start to fill in the empty spots.

She sends the first text without a second thought, then hesitates at the second. She closes her eyes and sends it quick. Her heart is racing in drastic contrast to the soothing music. She lifts her phone again when she hears the text tone, deciding to throw herself in head first instead of slowly being drenched in the anxiety of seeing the response.

 **From: Marinette  
** **To: Adrien  
**       Sleep well  
     Xo

 **From: Adrien  
** **To: Marinette  
     ** You too. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> totally not relevant to this chapter, but in alya’s contact name for nino is “#irrelevent” and in nino’s for alya is “idk bro” (and since it might not be clear, neither adrien nor mari know what nino's contact name for mari is)
> 
> i can't find decent references for pencil and compass turns, and that could be because said turns are often called different names depending on the studio. for me, pencil turns are a turn where your leg is straight out in front of you in just about an inch off the floor or so. compass turns are when your leg is out to the side and you drag your toe a bit along the floor. arms are usually in an L shape. (this is why i usually provide visual references)
> 
> thank you for being so so patient with me. the scene with adrien on the floor was actually one of the first scenes i wrote. i came up with it around 1 am and recorded myself speaking it on my phone so i wouldn't forget it— hence mari's sort of rambling-ness and the occasional repeats of ideas that she's already voiced. i was going to fix it, but it felt natural enough that i decided not to. 
> 
> the next update should be next week, but seeing my track record, let's say either next week or the week after. sorry again, i've been dealing with some stuff and this chapter hits a bit close to home with a few things. i tried to make it relatable for like...everyone, but i'm willing to explain why adrien acts the way he does sometimes in this fic if you want clarification. it's kind of weird feeling that i have a hard time explaining without lots of words and rambling. 
> 
> this was long so let's wrap it up. i'm on [tumblr](http://sadrien.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) where you can reblog this fic, scream with me, or see some of the really nice art and edits people have made (<3


	10. adagio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy i wrote most of this today. sorry about the lack of editing
> 
> before we start, i just wanted to say... so many of you have mentioned in some way or form that you relate a lot to adrien. as someone who's been there several times and still feels that way sometimes (even if i'm now without the pressure to enjoy a sport/wanting to quit), my inbox on tumblr is _always_ open. i'm always here to talk. it's an awful feeling and i hate it and i hate that anyone ever has to feel that way. i may not be able to help, but i'm always here to listen and sometimes that's better than nothing. i love you all  <3
> 
> enjoy~

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      on a date with the gf? 

**From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      We’re getting coffee before rehearsal, it’s not a date.  
     And she’s not my girlfriend. 

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      whatever you say my man  
     ;)

Adrien ducks his head and hopes that Marinette is too focused on ordering to notice the color of his face. His phone buzzes again and he glances down at the new message. 

**From: Alya  
** **To: marshmallow  
**      go get her boi  
     ;*

He groans internally. He should’ve known that introducing Alya and Nino to each other would end badly for him somehow. They may mostly argue in the group chat, but that seemed to have no problem getting along to scheme about Adrien’s love life. Or lack of one. 

He looks up from his phone when his name is called, grabbing his drink and following Marinette to the table that they claim as theirs whenever it’s free. Considering the times they usually go to Starbucks, it usually is. 

Alya has sent four more text messages by the time he’s sat down. 

Adrien’s thumb hovers over Marinette’s contact name, breath still catching in his throat when he sees the last text message she’d sent him last night. 

**From: Marinette  
** **To: Adrien  
**      I’ll see you tomorrow for coffee xo

He closes out of messages before he starts thinking about it too much. 

He sips his drink as he scrolls through Nathalie’s latest email. He’ll have to respond once he gets out of rehearsal. Something tells him that Nathalie is stressed again. Nathalie is usually stressed, but always more so when he’s away from home. She pretends not to care, but he knows that at least some part of her does. She wouldn’t send him so many schedules and check up on him so often if she didn’t. He clicks back to messages as Alya continues to blow up his phone. But now she’s decided to move into the group chat she’s made for the four of them. 

**From: Alya  
** **To: the lamest superheroes ever  
**      k but mari and adrien need to get their butts done w dance camp  
     im dying over here

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: the lamest superheroes ever  
**      did you set something on fire 

**From: Alya  
** **To: the lamest superheroes ever  
**      no????  
     tf???? 

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: the lamest superheroes ever  
**      nah youre fine bro  
     youll survive without them 

**From: Alya  
** **To: the lamest superheroes ever  
**      wrong   
     1 for alya 0 for the snapback   
     i need my girl back  
     mari come back 

Adrien looks up to meet Marinette’s gaze. She rolls her eyes and puts down her phone. 

“I’m going radio silent and enjoying my time before long rehearsal today,” she says. She slides her phone towards the middle of the table. “Alya’s just going to have to wait.” 

He snorts and sends back a quick text. 

**From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ / marshmallow / Adrien  
** **To: the lamest superheroes ever  
**      Marinette says you’re going to have to wait

**Alya has changed the name of this conversation to ‘mari come back to us’.**

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: mari come back to us  
**      bruh chill out  
     also can we take away your name changing abilities  
     is that a thing 

**From: Alya  
** **To: mari come back to us  
**      /n e v e r/  
     MARI  
     PLS  
     I LOVE U

Adrien silences his phone and puts it down next to Marinette’s. “They’ll figure out I’m not paying attention soon enough.” 

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “What’d they do?”

“Alya changed the group name again.” 

Marinette groans. “Of course she did,” she mutters into her cup. “She’s enjoying this way too much.” 

Nino is too. Adrien doesn’t actually want to know what they’re plotting. Whenever he and Marinette stop responding at the same time and they aren’t in classes— well, Alya and Nino aren’t afraid of jumping to conclusions. At least, Alya isn’t and she just sort of drags Nino along for the ride. 

Marinette hums to herself as they make their way back to the studio. Adrien recognizes it as the song for her solo. She glides past him into the studio as he holds the door open for her, trying not to smile too much as she drops her bag and does a quick step before sitting down to stretch. 

Chloé bumps Adrien softly as she walks by. He drags his gaze away from Marinette to give Chloé a small smile. Chloé smirks at him, blowing him a kiss as she twists her hair up into a bun.

He sighs as the lobby fills and the noise and chatter grows louder. Today is going to be a long day.

—«·»—

Marinette falls face first onto Adrien’s extra bed. “Wake me up when school starts,” she mumbles into the covers. 

He laughs and dumps their bags on the floor. “I would’ve thought that’s what you wanted to sleep through.” 

She just groans. 

Adrien feels the same. All of his muscles feel dead and tomorrow is going to be one of those mornings where he basically faceplants out of bed. He runs his hand through his hair as he checks his phone. He responds to the few messages Chloé had sent him before and after rehearsals, hoping she doesn’t notice how tired he is. Sometimes she just has this  _ sense _ of how he’s feeling and he doesn’t really feel like getting a lecture from her on top of ones from Tikki and Nathalie, Alya’s nagging, Nino’s subtle hints, Plagg’s eyebrow raises, and Marinette’s looks. He’s kind of blown away by how many people care about him — he’s not sure why so many people do — but he also doesn’t want any of them to worry. 

He lays down on his stomach and hangs over the side of his bed, scrolling through the few messages Alya and Nino had sent in the group chat before moving to separate messaging. Alya and her mom senses kick in, and at this point, Adrien wouldn’t expect anything less. 

**From: Alya  
** **To: mari come back to us  
**      u kids back from dance world yet? 

**sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ has changed the name of this conversation to ‘alya isn’t allowed to do this anymore’.**

**From: Alya  
** **To: alya isn’t allowed to do this anymore  
**      excuse u  
     is this really ur next move

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: alya isn’t allowed to do this anymore  
**      do not

**Alya has changed the name of this conversation to ‘no one likes nino’.**

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: no one likes nino  
**      okAY YOU KNOW WHAT

**From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ / marshmallow / Adrien  
** **To: no one likes nino  
**      Did you two want to do this over Skype or are you good at yelling at each other through text message?  
     Also

**my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ / marshmallow / Adrien has changed the name of this conversation to ‘We’re All Friends Here’**

**From: Alya  
** **To: We’re All Friends Here  
**      u wish

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: We’re All Friends Here  
**      do you wanna fight

**From: Alya  
** **To: We’re All Friends Here  
**      YEAH I WANNA FIGHT  
     GET ON SKYPE SUCKER  
     u and mari too marsh ;*

Adrien sighs and pulls himself up fully onto the bed. He glances over to Marinette as he gets up to grab his laptop from the desk. She’s asleep with her arms wrapped around a pillow and her hair half out of the ballet bun. She mumbles something and curls around the pillow, and Adrien’s heart skips a beat. He smiles to himself and grabs his headphones. 

“Marinette is napping,” he says as he joins Nino and Alya’s video call.  He puts his laptop down on the toilet seat and sits on the floor. “I didn’t want to wake her up.”

“Good, she needs the sleep.” Alya drops something — probably a stack of journals — onto the table with a thump. “That girl has  _ never _ slept enough.” 

Nino gives Adrien a pointed look, which Adrien pretends not to notice. 

Alya doesn’t miss it. “And neither do you Mr. Responding to Text Messages at 2 in the Morning.” She crosses her arms. 

“You were up too,” Adrien points out. “And so was Nino.” For once Marinette was actually asleep. Or they assumed she had been. For all they actually know, she could’ve still been in the studio. 

“ _ I _ don’t have full day rehearsals,” Alya says, pressing a hand to her chest. “And who cares about Nino’s health.”

Nino rolls his eyes. “Hey, you all knew that I had the weekend off. It’s cool for me to pull all nighters. But bro, sleep is a gift that you should take advantage of.” 

Adrien shrugs. “I can sleep when I’m dead.” 

Alya narrows her eyes. “Why does that feel like a bad motto to live by?”

“I’m gonna have to side with Al on this one,” Nino admits. “I don’t  _ want _ to, but seriously. If it’s possible to fall asleep mid-leap, you will be the one to do it.”

“I’d be impressed,” she muses. “Very impressed.” 

There’s a soft knock on the bathroom door. Adrien looks up from his laptop and pulls out one of his earbuds. “You can come in,” he answers as he twists around.  

Marinette opens the door and peeks in, blinking sleepily at him. “I fell asleep on you,” she mumbles as she rubs her eyes. 

Adrien just has to stare at her for a moment. He has to pause to take in her mussed up hair and the crease mark from the pillow that was starting to form on her cheek. The way she’s leaning heavily on the door like she’s about to fall asleep on it, how completely vulnerable and comfortable and  _ soft _ she looks right now. 

“That’s fine,” he says with a smile. He hopes she’s too tired to notice his staring or how it took a few more seconds to respond than it should have. “I don’t mind.” He doesn’t. He could never mind. 

Marinette brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “Maybe I should go back to my room.” 

“You don’t have to,” Adrien says quickly. The thought of her leaving snaps him back into reality. 

She gives him a confused look, eyes dropping to his laptop before searching his face again. “But…?”

Adrien pulls out the other earbud and stands up. “You hide out in my bathroom all the time,” he teases as he takes her hand off the doorknob and wraps it in his own. “And I don’t know if you’ll make it down the hall without falling asleep.” 

Marinette shoves him lightly, but starts yawning partly through. 

“Told you.” 

“Shut up,” she grumbles, resting her head against his arm. 

People always say it feels like butterflies in your stomach, but this is nothing compared to the butterflies Adrien gets before going onstage. He feels warm and tingly and a little bit like his heart is going to explode or beat out of his chest. Like she’s a breath of fresh air and he’s underwater just looking up and trying to reach her. 

His brain might be malfunctioning due to the absolute cuteness that is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says softly, nudging her until she stops leaning on the door. She immediately goes to leaning against him instead. Adrien feels his cheeks heat up as tugs Marinette back into the room. 

“G’night,” she murmurs to him as she climbs onto the bed. She grabs the pillow and curls around it again. 

The butterflies in his stomach decide now is a good time to show up and start fluttering. “Night.”

“Wow,” Alya says as he puts his headphones back in and sits back down on the floor. 

“Aw man, dude,” Nino says. “You are so in love.” 

“That was disgusting,” Alya says with a fond look in her eyes. “I feel like I just watched a really cliche romcom. Gross.”

Nino rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Al. They were cute.” 

Alya leans forward, grinning widely. “I did  _ not _ realize you had it so bad! I would’ve been a lot more aggressive about getting you two together if I had known how head over heals you are.” 

“I’m not!" Adrien protests. “I…I’ve only known her for like a month, anyway.”

“Five weeks,” Nino corrects.

“S-so?! What difference does one week make?”

“So?” Alya repeats. “Five weeks is long enough! Just declare your love for her with a grand elaborate gesture!” She throws her arms out dramatically. 

“I was thinking something more along the lines of never telling her and waiting it out?” Adrien admits.

Alya’s face falls. “Nino.”

Nino looks up in surprise. “What?”

“Have you been giving this boy romantic advice? Because if so, you’re fired.” 

Nino gives her an offended look. “Hey! I am not responsible for this disaster.” 

“Guys,” Adrien interrupts, “I’m right here.” 

“Oh, we know.” Alya rubs the bridge of her nose. “We  _ know _ .” She sighs and picks her phone. “Okay, I’ve got this.” 

Adrien’s heart stops. “What are you doing.” 

“Breathe, marshmallow. Only good things,” she insists. She looks up from her phone and winks at him.

“Chillax, my dude.” Nino holds up his phone. “She’s just changed a group chat name.  _ Again _ .”  

Alya sticks her tongue out at Nino as Adrien pulls his phone out of his pocket. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees that Alya’s changed the name of his, hers, and Nino’s conversation from ‘nerd squad minus the queen’ to ‘#getadrienandmaritogether’. She could’ve done something so much worse. 

Alya claps her hands together. “Alright, let’s put Plan Get Adrien and Marinette Together Before Dance Camp Ends into action.” 

“Bro, if you give us code names, I’m out,” Nino says. 

Alya brushes him off. “You wouldn’t have a fun code name anyway. Step one:  _ just ask her out already _ .”

“I-I think that's a bad idea.” Sure, he likes to think of their Starbucks runs as dates, but they aren’t actually dates. Not official ones. “I mean, I don’t even know if she likes me like that.” 

Alya and Nino stare at him for a second. 

“I… Am going to bed,” Alya announces. “Nino, you take over.” She hangs up without another word. 

“Uh…” Nino stares at the spot on his screen where Alya just was a moment ago. 

“It’s only like seven,” Adrien says with a frown. 

“ _ Dude _ .” 

“What?”  

Nino just groans and puts his head down on his desk. 

Adrien looks down at his phone as it vibrates. 

**From: Alya  
** **To: the densest marshmallow in the world  
**      u nerd  
     just ask her out 

—«·»—  


Marinette is sitting on Adrien’s bed with a needle between her lips when Adrien comes out of the bathroom. She has fabric spread out over the covers and her sketchbook sitting on her lap. She looks up at him and smiles, making Adrien’s butterflies do a little flutter. 

“I would’ve thought you’d still be sleeping.” He puts his laptop back on the desk and sits on the other bed. 

She takes the needle in hand and sticks it into the fabric. “I’ve only been up for like twenty minutes. I slept for like two hours.” She gives him a sheepish look. “Sorry about that.” 

“I don’t mind,” Adrien promises. “I told you that you could stay.”

Marinette just hums and tugs the need through the fabric. “If you’re sure.” She glances over to him. “I can leave now if you’d like.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

They stare at each other for a moment, and Adrien wonders if her heart is beating as wildly as his own. She drops her eyes to her sketchbook. “Are you sure I’m not…intruding or anything?” 

“You’re not. I’d tell you if you were.” Adrien tilts his head so he can look her in the eyes. “I promise.” 

Marinette bites her lip. “Yeah… Yeah, you would.” She sighs and puts down the fabric and needle, leaning back against the headboard. “I feel…like I am? I mean…” She picks up her sketchbook and stares at the design. “…I feel out of place.” 

“Out of place?” Adrien asks. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. All of this ballet and all of these people who have spent their entire lives doing this, leading up to this…” Marinette flips through the pages of her sketchbook. “I guess I’m still not used to it. It’s been five weeks but I still…feel like an outsider. Who’s just  _ masquerading  _ around.”

Adrien watches her fiddle with the binding of her sketchbook. He knows that feeling. Feeling like you don’t belong. But he thinks it’s probably for a different reason. 

“I’m used to tiny studios with bad stereo systems. And Marley floors that you can’t use rosin on that turn your pointe shoes a disgusting gray. And parents of noncompetitive little kids hovering around nervously while the competitive kids are trying to do back walkovers in the lobby.” She turns her head to look at him. “I’m used to having jazz classes and hearing pulsing music from the studio next door and just  _ dying _ in the heat because we don’t have air conditioning.” 

Adrien is an outsider because he’s spent his entire life in the dance world. Not everyone has known famous ballet dancers since they were a few weeks old. Not everyone grows up under the assumption that they  _ will _ be a great ballet dancer, without a doubt. Most people aren’t in professional ballets when they’re eight. Most of the people here are never going to be in the limelight like he is. 

He would give anything to change that. 

“It’s just that…ten weeks is a really long time to be away from all that. To be in a completely new environment with no relief or break.” Marinette hugs her sketchbook to her chest. “Like… I knew going into this that this was ten weeks, but I don’t know, it’s gone by really fast and it doesn’t seem that long anymore, but… Ten weeks is still ten weeks.” She sighs. “I guess… I-I don’t know, I guess…I’m just homesick. I just— I miss home.” 

Adrien can close his eyes and imagine her studio. He can feel her longing ache for it and it’s familiarity. “Well… That’s understandable. Ten weeks  _ is _ a long time. What do you miss?” He wants to know everything. He wants to know everything about her and her life and how she lives it. He wants to know the little details and be able to imagine himself right next to her, experiencing it with her. 

Marinette closes her eyes. “I miss my mom and my dad and my room and hugs from Alya and…freshly baked pastries and this irritating sound of— of mixing machines that are turned on and— I don’t know it’s just…” She opens her eyes and furrows her eyebrows. “This homesickness, it disappeared after the first few days but now… Now it’s back? And? I don’t know, it’s… It’s weird. Do you know what I’m talking about?” 

“Not entirely.” He can’t  _ really _ say he’s homesick. He doesn’t miss a big empty house with long echoing hallways and dark shadows and empty rooms. He doesn’t miss the loneliness of it. He doesn’t miss the reminders. The bad reminders. 

There were so many good reminders of what his life had been once. When his mom was still around, when things didn’t feel icy and…distant. But, his home? He can still remember a place filled with life and laughter and happiness and classical music constantly playing and humming and dancing. That’s not there anymore. Now it’s closed doors and silent dinners. Gray walls and empty eyes in portraits.

He doesn’t miss that home. That large, vacant home. That  _ house _ .

He misses Nino. He misses sitting on the couch with Nino and just talking. He misses the two am conversations they’d have when they were actually next to each other, when they could poke each other and tease. When they weren’t separated by a screen. He misses Nathalie coming in and telling him to go to sleep with that sort of fond look on her face and he misses the way the Gorilla would raise his eyebrow and sort of just turn away when Adrien was slipping away to sneak into a bakery before or after rehearsals. 

He misses the way his dad would sometimes look at him. With a sort of…pride. 

He’s not homesick for a place. He’s homesick for the people. 

And Marinette had said that, hadn’t she? 

She missed her parents and she missed her friend. But, she also missed the environment and what she was surrounded by and Adrien— Adrien doesn’t miss that. He much prefers this warmth, this happiness, this love that he didn’t feel all of the time at home. Here, he’s enveloped in it. He’s surrounded in it and drowning in it and he doesn’t want to be saved. 

So, he can’t entirely understand her. Not that he’s going to tell her that. 

“I know what you mean,” he says. “And…I think it’s natural to miss something when you’ve been away from it for a long time.” 

Marinette gives him a soft smile. A soft and gentle smile. And part of him is ready to just run and leap off this cliff and dive in. Take Alya’s advice and just  _ tell her _ . Tell her so he doesn’t lose her. 

There’s a loud knock at the door. 

Maybe some other time. 

Marinette scoops up her fabrics in her arms as Adrien gets up to answer the door. He’s surprised to find Plagg leaning on the doorframe and Tikki standing behind him. 

“We heard you talking,” Tikki says, rocking back on her heels. 

A smirk slowly spreads across Plagg’s face. 

Adrien’s mind goes blank. “Uh…” 

“I was just leaving,” Marinette says, showing up next to Adrien with a packed bag and a bright smile. She puts her hand on Adrien’s arm. “See you tomorrow?” 

“Y-yeah, see you then.” He blinks and looks away from Plagg and Tikki as they let Marinette by. 

Tikki giggles and Plagg just pushes Adrien back into his room, closing the door behind them. 

“Nothing was happening,” Adrien says quickly. 

“Oh we know,” Tikki says cheerfully, making herself comfortable on Adrien’s bed. 

“I mean, we’re talking about  _ you _ ,” Plagg says, ruffling Adrien’s hair. “Nothing is  _ ever _ going to happen.” 

“Hey!” Adrien protests, trying to duck away from Plagg.

“You have  _ no moves. _ ” Plagg flops onto the bed next to Tikki. “You’re a romantic disaster.” 

“And a sap,” Tikki adds. 

Adrien blushes furiously. “I don’t— I-I’m not—”

“We saw your face when Marinette touched your arm.” Tikki winks at him and he’s going to melt into the floor. 

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles. 

Plagg leans forward and grabs Adrien’s arms, pulling him into the bed and sandwiching him between the two of them. 

“We are,” Plagg agrees with a smirk. 

“We’re the worst and we’re here to drown you in cuddles,” Tikki says. She wraps her arms around Adrien and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“And to tease you  _ relentlessly _ about Marinette.” Plagg pokes Adrien in the side. “Because you are the most  _ obvious loser I’ve ever seen _ .” 

Adrien groans and buries his head in his hands. 

Tikki hums. “I think it’s cute. He’s got a  _ cruuuuuush _ .” 

“I think it’s gross,” Plagg says. 

“The  _ worst _ ,” Adrien grumbles. 

“You love us,” Tikki insists, squeezing him tightly. 

“That’s also gross.” Tikki shoves Plagg’s face away. 

Adrien sighs and lets himself be cuddled. “I still hate you,” he insists, unable to keep the smile off his face. 

“We know.” 

* * *

Adrien winces and presses his hand to his lower back.  _ That _ doesn’t feel good. 

Plagg gives him a look. “What did you just do?” 

“Nothing,” Adrien says quickly.

“Yeah, sure. Says the guy holding his back and making a face.” Plagg motions for Adrien to stop moving. “What did you  _ do _ ?” 

“I think I just moved the wrong way. It’s just a little sore.” Adrien massages the area with his thumb. Okay, yeah. That weird twist he’d accidentally done in the air was definitely a mistake. 

“What did he do?” Tikki says from the other side of the room where she’s working with Marinette. 

“Something to his back,” Plagg answers before Adrien can even open his mouth.

Great. 

Tikki’s eyes go wide. She gives Marinette a quick instruction before making her way over. “What did you do?” she repeats. 

Adrien sighs. “I just did something wrong in my leap. I twisted a little or something and it just pulled. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“ _ Everything _ is something to worry about,” Tikki twitters. She spins Adrien around, shoo-ing his hands away and pressing her own in the spot where he’d been holding. “You probably pulled something.” She clucks her tongue. “Always on the silliest of things,” she murmurs. 

Adrien meets Marinette’s eyes as she pauses between turn sequences. She furrows his eyebrows and he just gives her a smile and thumbs up. He doesn’t want her to worry, he’s really fine, Tikki and Plagg just love to overreact. 

“It could also be a little bit from overuse,” Plagg adds, hovering behind Tikki. “ _ Someone _ ,” he glares at Adrien, “isn’t good about taking breaks.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. 

“Never has been. And neither are you.” Tikki reaches back and pokes Plagg in the stomach. She take her hand off of Adrien’s back and straightens. 

“Stretch?” Adrien asks. 

“Stretch, I’d try heat and see if that helps, and if does, heat the usual cycle, IcyHot is probably a good idea, and either marking or sitting out,” Tikki says, counting off her fingers.

Marking? Sitting out? “But—” 

Plagg holds a finger up in front of Adrien’s face. “Nope. You’re taking a few days off. The world won’t stop turning because you do.” 

Adrien’s stomach does a flip. He can already feel a slight panic building up. 

Tikki rubs his arms and smiles. “You’re far ahead of where you need to be for your solo, you know that. You and Marinette are fine with the duet and she could use the break as well. And it’ll be okay if you just mark for a few days in production and other classes. You’re a fast learner. It’s almost impossible for you to fall behind.” 

Adrien sighs. A little of the panic subsides as Tikki continues the soothing motion. “Okay. If you say so.” 

“Of course it takes an injury to stop you,” Plagg mutters. “I should’ve known.” 

—«·»—

“Are you okay?” Marinette asks as she unties her shoes. 

Adrien shrugs and shoves his shoes into his bag. “Just a little sore.” 

She raises her eyebrows. “When I was fourteen I pulled my lower back,” she muses. “I took a little break, but then we had a really important competition, so I went back to dancing fully and competed full out at the competition. I landed the last tumbling pass and almost burst into tears. I couldn’t hide my limping from my maman. I was in physical therapy and on heating pad duty for months.” She wraps her shoes in their ribbons and looks up at Adrien with a knowing smile. “I still have those physical therapy exercises if you want them.” 

Adrien is impressed at her ability to pull her own experience in, tell him to take a break, offer him advice, and show that she can totally tell he’s lying in a short anecdote. “That’d be great,” he says, returning her smile. He hopes the smile doesn’t betray how much he wants to kiss her right now.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little everywhere but meh. 
> 
> i've pulled my lower back so many times i want to punch myself in the face. you know that story mari tells adrien? yeah. that's me. i'm still occasionally in pain and i regret everything. _everything_. storyline wise, the injury is super minor, but it felt unrealistic to have 10 weeks of dance without either of them pulling something or overusing something. we all hurt
> 
> yeah there was a _slight_ time jump. and yeah the next three chapters cover five weeks. it's fine. 
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](http://sadrien.tumblr.com/tagged/tangled-ribbons-extra) and i've been posting little extra things for this fic! headcanons and such that i don't get to touch upon and a playlist from last chapter! that link will bring you directly to the tag! thank you all for being so wonderful, i never dreamed so many people would like this fic~


	11. petit allegro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to thank you all a million times over for being so patient for this chapter. 
> 
> It's...massive. It's the longest single post I've ever made, over double the length of the previous longest post. 
> 
> I had a really hard time with this, from struggling with just writing, to characterizations. The pacing, in this chapter, and the rest of this fic is less than ideal, and I failed to properly build to one of the major points in this chapter. One of the reasons this took so long and _is_ so long is because I was trying to smooth out the bumps and these issues. 
> 
> I've been reminding myself over and over again that this is a first draft. I have no beta, I don't edit much, and I didn't pace it the way I would've liked. If I could, I'd go back and do a heavy edit and fix it all, but as it is, it's a first draft. So I ask that you keep that in mind when you're reading
> 
> There is a more specific timeline to this chapter than most, I wanted to know where I was in the summer. If anyone is interested, I can definitely post it. Also there's a HUGE endnote. (really there's like a bazillion things down there so if you're confused about anything please do check it out to see if I covered it) 
> 
> [Human by Dodie Clark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL8tyObkRvk)is not only a song that I've been listening to nonstop but is also really good for this one part of the chapter. When I was writing to it, I just listened to it on repeat. Let's see if you can guess it :)
> 
> So...yeah! Try to keep an open mind with some of the characterizations, they aren't my best, and a few points miiight require a little more suspension of disbelief than usual. But I hope you enjoy!
> 
> OH I almost forgot, they're in Paris right now, don't think I've mentioned that before. Meaning Alya and Marinette DO NOT live in Paris. Also! [THIS](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/f3/ef/34/f3ef3415e6d8c326ea250cefa28a95eb.jpg) is the end pose for the duet. Sorry I'm such a mess ^^;

Adrien’s arm is tight around her waist, allowing Marinette to bend backwards without falling. Her chin is tipped to the ceiling, but their eyes are locked. Her heart stutters and stumbles as the last notes of the music waver. He keeps his arm around her as she straightens and comes down from pointe.

“Good?” he asks softly. He has a gentle expression on his face and the way he looks at her makes her feel like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Marinette’s voice is still lost somewhere back in the music, so she just smiles and nods.

Adrien smiles and ducks his head a little.

Over the past few weeks, Marinette has gotten used to being close to Adrien. Even outside of the studio. They stand so their arms are brushing, they bump shoulders. Holding hands is almost a subconscious thing. Being close to Adrien is comforting. It feels right.

This feels a little different.

Not a bad different, just _different_.

Marinette stares into Adrien’s eyes as her insides melt. And every single problem she’s ever faced is suddenly worth it because it got her to this exact moment in time. Adrien leans just the slightest bit closer and breath catches in her thro—

Plagg claps his hands. Marinette steps away quickly and tuck her hair behind her ears, biting her lip. Adrien coughs and rubs the back of his neck.

Different. Weird. _Awkward_.

“That could’ve been worse,” Plagg says.

It takes Marinette a moment to realize that he means the duet and not whatever had just happened between her and Adrien. How badly she wishes that Plagg wasn’t here. How much she wanted Adrien to—

Tikki clicks her tongue and shakes her head. 

Marinette banishes those thoughts from her mind. They have no place here. 

Tikki hops down from where she was sitting on the table next to the stereo. “I say for your first full runthrough, it was wonderful.” She nudges Plagg as she passes him. He just crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at her. “I have a few notes, but how about we run it again just so you get the feel of it.” She picks up her phone and stops the song that had started playing. “From the top?” 

Adrien nods and follows Marinette to the corner. They assume their beginning pose as Marinette refuses to think about how her hand fits in Adrien’s. It’s all too easy to get lost in the choreography.

* * *

 Marinette hopes that the light of her phone screen doesn’t wake anyone up. She’s not sure how it would, be she’s on edge and she keeps feeling like someone is about to wake up and watch over her shoulder.

She’d much rather be sound asleep like the rest of her roommates. But her brain has decided to be difficult and just laying in bed pretending to sleep isn’t helpful. Laying in bed doing nothing lets her thoughts swirl deeper and deeper and she’s not really interested in that right now. Or ever.

She’s been jumping from social media account to social media account, mindlessly scrolling and squinting in the dark. She checks her email quickly, deleting the spam and flagging something from Alya, and notices that there were two text notifications that she somehow missed. 

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: We’re All Friends Here ( <\- a lie)  
**      all im saying is that CLEARLY he’d be a hufflepuff  
     why is this even up for discussion

Marinette rolls her eyes. Alya loves having the last word, but not this time.

 **From: cupcake queen ✌ / adrien’s gf / Marinette  
** **To: We’re All Friends Here ( <\- a lie)  
**     I’m still convinced he’s a gryffindor, sorry 

It’s not until she’s sent it that she realizes her mistake. It’s after two in the morning.

She groans and presses her phone to her forehead. Not good. At all. Alya will kill her. Nino will kill her. Adrien… Adrien won’t kill her.

All three of them will get it, the staying up late and the insomnia, but Alya and Nino will bug her nonstop about sleeping more. Adrien will probably just smile and say ‘been there’ as he bumps her shoulder. Maybe they’ll go to Starbucks and—

She shakes her head. No daydreaming about Adrien. Stop that.

Adrien isn’t hers to daydream about. They might sign off their texts with x’s and o’s but that means nothing. That’s what she keeps telling herself. Nothing.

She clicks Adrien’s contact, rereading the end of their last conversation a few hours ago. She tries to reaffirm that in her mind. He’s her friend. Her friend that she loves. As a friend. Nothing more.

 **From: Adrien  
** **To: Marinette  
**      I promise  
     I’ll heat and put on IcyHot before I leave for the studio tomorrow 

 **From: Marinette  
** **To: Adrien  
**      You better  
     I’ll be able to tell  
     Oh thats lights off  
     Talk to you tomorrow xo

 **From: Adrien  
** **To: Marinette  
**      Everyone will be able to tell if I put IcyHot on or not  
     An unfortunate minty side effect  
     Alright, I’ll talk to you then  
     Night. X

Adrien’s x’s make her heart do weird things and she hasn’t exactly figured out how to stop that yet. She won’t even let herself _consider_ that they might mean something more. She will _not_ get her hopes up like that. Maybe that’s just how Adrien texts his friends. Maybe Nino gets x’s too. That doesn’t stop her heart from practically exploding whenever he sends one.

Adrien’s texts make her night. Regardless of how tired she is or how bad the day went, she can always count on a goodnight text from him to cheer her up. Adrien is—

She blinks in surprise at the three dots that just popped up at the bottom of the screen.

Adrien is texting her 

 **From: Adrien  
** **To: Marinette  
     ** You’re still awake?

Marinette chews on her lip as she types her response.

 **From: Marinette  
** **To: Adrien  
**      Yeah couldn’t sleep  
     You?

It takes a few minutes after the message changes from ‘Delivered’ to ‘Read at 2:19’ for Adrien to start tying. She watches the little dots for another few minutes before she decides that something might be wrong and it’s not just her sleep deprived brain overreacting.

She sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed, typing out a quick message as she walks to the bathroom. 

 **From: Marinette  
** **To: Adrien  
     ** Would it be easier if I called??

 **From: Adrien  
** **To: Marinette  
**      Yeah  
     If you can that is. Don’t go out of your way for me.

Marinette shakes her head. Like she wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth for this boy. She shuts the bathroom door and flicks on the lights. She sits down on the edge of the tub and hits call.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Morning,” she answers softly.

Adrien sighs. “ _Oh right. It’s morning_.”

Marinette hums. “Mhm. Almost two thirty. Lose track of time?”

“ _A little bit_ ,” he admits.

“What’s up?”

Adrien pauses. “ _It’s…nothing. Nothing. I just…_ ” He forces a laugh. “ _I’m really sorry, I should probably just go to bed._ ”

Marinette twists her hair around her finger. It doesn’t sound like nothing is wrong. “Are you sure?”

“… _no_ ,” he admits after a moment. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” he whispers.

“Don’t be sorry.” He should never be sorry. How does she tell him that she never wants him to apologize for talking for him? That she will _always_ be there for him, whether it’s two in the afternoon or two in the morning. She doesn’t want him to be sorry, she wants to be next to him, helping him along the way. She doesn’t want him to apologize for reaching out, for not wanting to be alone. “I can…” She takes a quick breath and just throws it out there before she can change her mind. “Do you want me to come down to your room?”

“ _You don’t have to_.” 

“Do you want me to?” Marinette repeats. “Because I can if you want me to.”

“ _I don’t want you going out of your way for me._ ” 

She rolls her eyes this time. “You already used that one tonight,” she says as she stands, flicking off the light and leaving the bathroom. She drops her voice to a whisper, “I’m already on my way.” She slides on her shoes and grabs a room key.

“ _Mari—_ ”

“Already in the hallway,” she sing songs, shutting the door quietly behind her. “Too late, I’m stopping by for a visit.”

“ _Isn’t it too late for a visit?_ ”

“Never,” she insists. “Besides, you’re literally just down the hall. It’s not like I’m crossing a country, I’m not even walking all the way to the _stairs_. In fact, I’m standing outside your door right now.”

“ _You are?_ ” She smiles at the surprise in his voice and knocks lightly on the door. “ _You are._ ”

“Are you going to let me in? Because I can sleep on the floor,” she threatens playfully.

The door swings open. “Please don’t sleep on the floor,” Adrien says, ending the call.

Marinette’s breath catches in her throat. Sleepy and tired Adrien she had been prepared for. She sees it in the studio all the time. Sleepy and tired Adrien wearing baggy sweatpants and _glasses_? A green t-shirt that’s a size or two too big and sweatpants. Adrien wearing thick framed glasses with tousled hair. _Glasses_.

She forces a laugh. “I’ve slept on the floor plenty of times. Don’t tell Alya.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and gives him a nervous look.

“Never,” he promises, stepping to the side to let her in.  

“Glasses?” she asks, sliding off her shoes as Adrien closes the door. She mentally lectures herself. Come on, they’re just _glasses_. It’s not like they make him look that different or anything like that.

Adrien pushes them up his nose and ducks his head.

_They’re just pieces of plastic sitting on his face. Why can’t she stop staring?_

“Ah, yeah. Glasses. I usually wear contacts.” He peers up at her through the lense and she turns her back on him so he can’t see any change in her expression. 

“Easier for dance,” Marinette says, reclaiming Adrien’s extra bed. She pulls the pillow from behind it and wraps her arms around it. She hugs it tightly and resists the urge to hide her face in it.

“I also kind of hate I look in them,” he admits.

Marinette refuses to believe that Adrien looks bad in anything. She bites her tongue to keep from saying, ‘I love how you look in them’.  

Adrien sits down on his bed and crosses his legs. “Mostly I don’t wear them because contacts are easier, but also a tiny bit of vanity.” 

“You? _Vain_?” She gives him a scandalized look. “Shameful.”

Adrien throws his pillow at her and she bats it to the floor before sticking her tongue out at him.

“You get to pick it up,” he says. 

Marinette groans and falls to her side. “Or I could never move again.” Adrien chuckles as she eyes the pillow on the floor. She pushes herself up to sitting and smirks at him. “I have a better idea.” 

Adrien narrows his eyes. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

He gets a pillow in the face for that. 

—«·»—

Fifteen minutes later, Marinette admires their work from inside the blanket fort. “Good idea or best idea?” she asks.

Adrien laughs. “I can’t remember the last time I made a blanket fort.”

“Then you are living life _wrong_.” She hugs a pillow to her chest. “When I get an apartment, that’s one thing I want.”

“A blanket fort.”

“You’re judging me!”

“No I’m not!” he insists. She can hear the laughter in his voice and it makes her heart soar. “You want a blanket fort,” he says seriously.

“And not _just_ a blanket fort,” she amends. “A _huge_ , practically _permanent_ blanket fort.”

“You’re going to turn any open space you have into a blanket fort, aren’t you?” Adrien gives her a lopsided smile.

Marinette returns it. “Absolutely.” 

Adrien’s phone vibrates and his eyes go wide. “Oh wait, hold on.” His tongue sticks out a little as he quickly responds to the message he just got. It’s unbearably cute.

“Nino?” she asks. She likes to think she knows Adrien somewhat well, and she doesn’t have any idea who else he might be texting so late. 

“Plagg, actually,” he corrects. He puts his phone down.

Marinette frowns. “Why is Plagg texting you at almost three in the morning?”

Adrien’s expression falls a little and he looks down at his hands.

She slightly curses herself. “I- I mean…” She struggles to figure out what the best path to take in this conversation is. There doesn’t seem to be any good way to handle this, so she just jumps in headfirst. “Is anything wrong?” 

“It’s just one of those nights,” he murmurs. “One of those…not great nights.”

Marinette thinks that might be an understatement. “I know the feeling,” she says instead. 

Adrien glances up at her. “Is tonight one of them?” 

She sighs and puts the pillow to the side. “Not as bad as I’m guessing yours is.” She shrugs. “My mind just didn’t want to shut up tonight and I’m kind of stressed. It just happens.”

“It just happens,” he repeats. “Do you remember when you asked how long I’d known Tikki and Plagg?”

Marinette suspects that this change of subject is a lot less abrupt than it seems. “Yeah. You said they were part of your first production.”

“The first production that counts in my mind,” Adrien says. “I’ve known them…a lot longer.”

“How much longer? If you don’t mind me asking.”   

He shrugs. “Since I was born.” 

Marinette leans back. “Oh wow. That _is_ a lot longer.”

“They…knew my mom.” Adrien looks away. “They were in her dance class. They were always there when I was growing up.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Why…?”

He glances to her with wide eyes. “Didn’t I tell you when you asked?”

Marinette nods wordlessly.

He ruffles his hair with both hands, something she’s started to associate with him getting frustrated or annoyed or just on the edge of _something_. She gently grabs his wrists and pulls his hands out of his hair. 

Adrien closes his eyes. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I don’t… _talk_ about it. Or…her.” Marinette mentally replaces the ‘her’ with ‘mom’. “And when I was little…and people knew about them and my— they always ended up asking about her and I couldn’t—” He bites his lip and ducks his head.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” Marinette says softly. She moves her hands from his wrists to his hands, squeezing them softly. “I have a million stories to tell if you’d rather not.” She’s already trying to think of a good one when he speaks up.

“There’s nothing _to_ talk about.” Adrien hunches his shoulders. “She’s just gone. And I don’t know where she went.”

Gone. Marinette tries to imagine her maman just being gone one day. It’s almost impossible but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It feels like a gaping hole. She wishes she knew how to help Adrien get rid of this emptiness. She has no idea how to do that. “I know it doesn’t mean much,” she says, “but I’m sorry.” 

Adrien stares at her for a long moment before pulling her forward into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into her hair.

“Of course,” she murmurs, rubbing circles on his back. She pulls away and wipes away the tears on his cheeks with her thumb. “What are friends for if not three am blanket forts?”

Adrien laughs weekly. “The only other thing that comes to mind is tv show marathons.”

Marinette nods. “That’s true. Alya and I once marathoned the Last Airbender the weekend before finals. And by once I mean like two months ago.” 

He ducks his head his shoulders shake with silent laughter. “Seriously?” 

She blows her bangs out of her face. “I never said we make good choices.”

“You thought _I_ was going to be the voice of reason for the four of us.” 

“Yeah, not sure where I got that idea. We’re probably all going to die.”

“Probably.” Adrien gives her a soft smile. “Thanks.”

Marinette furrows her eyebrows. “For what? Making bad decisions that probably influenced my grades? Or telling you that you’re as much of a disaster as the rest of us?”

“For being here.” He leans forward and presses his forehead against Marinette’s. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be here,” she promises.

“Can I tell you about her?”

Marinette almost has to strain to hear him. His voice is lower than a whisper, like he barely even breathed the words. “I’d like that,” she whispers back.

Adrien pulls away a little. Their foreheads are no longer touching, but they’re still bent towards each other like they’re exchanging secrets. She supposes that they are. “She liked to garden.”

“Garden?”

He nods, a distant look in his eyes and a sad smile on his face. “She _loved_ to garden. Almost as much as she loved to dance. And while she loved ballet, she had a big soft spot for ballroom dancing. I remember her and my father going out to different ballroom dancing lessons.” 

Marinette has seen pictures of Gabriel Agreste. His stern and serious face and perfect posture. She tries to imagine his wife pulling him out to dance lessons. She tries to image him learning a salsa dance. She covers her mouth with a hand to silence her laughter. 

“What?” Adrien pushes his glasses back up his nose.

Marinette shakes her head. “It’s nothing it’s just—” She snorts. “I can’t imagine your father doing the cha cha.”

His face twists as he tries not to laugh. “I was honestly thinking more along the lines of a viennese waltz—”

Marinette doubles over giggling.

“—but okay?” Adrien can no longer keep the laughter out of his voice. He bumps against her as he laughs. “He would probably _hate_ latin dance.” 

She forces herself to breathe because her sides are aching. “Better than imagining him doing square dancing.” She takes a deep breath and tries not to giggle. “Wearing cowboy boots and a cowboy hat— Swing yer pardner round ‘n round—” 

“I can’t— breathe—” Adrien wheezes. He collapses against her. “Why—do you do this…to me?” 

“My brain is dead,” she announces. She wraps her arms around her stomach. “My abs are dead. All of me is dead.” 

“From the conditioning or the laughing?”

Marinette snorts and joins Adrien on the floor. They stare up at the blanket ceiling as they catch their breath.

“I don’t think my mom took my father out for salsa dancing,” Adrien admits. Marinette giggles. “Probably taught him to tango though.” 

“I think I know the dramatic tango position from movies and the leg wrap…thing.” Marinette shrugs. “I don’t ballroom dance.”

“You do a lot of other dancing though,” he points out.

“True.” She takes a risk and adds to the conversation so Adrien’s not the only one actually contributing. She hopes it doesn’t seem like she’s making it all about herself. “My maman doesn’t dance but she does sing. She sings while she’s cooking.” She lets out a soft sigh of relief when Adrien nods.

“My mom loved music. She’s the one who had me start taking piano lessons. She played…so many instruments. I don’t know how, I can barely manage the one.” Adrien pulls off his glasses and fiddles with them.

“My maman is tiny,” Marinette says. “She’s shorter than me but she’s probably as strong as my dad. I blame all the flour lifting.” 

“My mom…really liked Studio Ghibli movies,” Adrien says slowly. “We used to watch them together.”

“I watched them with my dad.” Marinette smiles, thinking about rainy days with cookies and a random assortment of animated movies. “Maman makes special soup whenever I’m upset, even if it’s the middle of summer.”

Adrien’s breath hitches. “My mom— She used to tell me stories about the stars.” He reaches up and brushes his fingers against the blankets hanging above them. “She knew all of these stories, from different mythologies and from all over the world—” He lowers his hand slowly. “But the ones I remember the most are the ones she made up. That she let me help weave.”

Marinette keeps her eyes on the blankets, looking for patterns in the folds. “Do you have any you want to share?” she asks softly.

Adrien sets his glasses to the side. “Once upon a time…”

—«·»— 

Marinette squeezes her eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the loud knocking. “S’mones at the door,” she mumbles into soft cotton. She groans as the knocking persists.

Her pillow moves and strong arms wrap around her.

Wait.

She shifts so she can get her arm free from where it’s pinned underneath her. She rubs the sleep from her eyes and blinks slowly. She stares at the blanket wall in front of her.

Huh. She doesn’t remember falling asleep. She tilts her head to the side to find Adrien watching her with a sleepy gaze.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

Marinette stares at him for a moment, broken from her trance by another sharp knock at the door. She groans and puts her head back down on his chest. 

On his chest.

She will deal with emotions later. Later, when she’s significantly less tired and dead inside.

“I should get that,” Adrien says with a sigh. He lets go and moves out from under her, ducking out of the blanket fort.

Marinette bites the inside of her cheek to keep from protesting. It’s colder without Adrien here and not nearly as comfortable. She sighs and sits up. If Adrien’s opening the door that means someone could come in and she probably shouldn’t be in the blanket fort if that happens.

She crawls out and gets to her feet. She runs her hands through her hair and wonders how much of a mess it is and how painful it’ll be to detangle as Adrien slips on his glasses and opens the door with a yawn.

He braces himself on the doorframe, still half asleep. “Mhm?”

Plagg ducks under Adrien’s arm and slides into the room. He gives Marinette a devilish smirk. “Morning, kiddos!”

“Don’t call me that,” Adrien grumbles.

Tikki giggles and ruffles his hair as she glides into the room. “I see you sleepy heads just woke up,” she teases.

“What time is it?” Marinette asks. There is too much going on right now to process time.

“Six thirty,” Tikki says. She examines the blanket fort with a bright smile. “Figured you’d need more of a wake up call this morning than just a phone alarm.”

Marinette sends Adrien a confused look.

He closes the door with a sigh. “I told Plagg you were here last night in case anyone came looking.”

“Ugh and did someone ever,” Plagg complains. He faceplants onto Adrien’s bed.

Adrien rolls his eyes.

“ _Listen_ ,” Plagg says, “I thought I was done being woken up by little miss queen bee once you two turned thirteen. I was _not_ mentally prepared for more of that.”

Tikki sits down on the bed next to Plagg and flicks his ear.

“Ow!”

“Hush,” she chides. “Chloé may be a little loud—” 

“ _A little?!_ ”

“—but it’s not like she burst into the room screaming.”

Plagg groans loudly. “Don’t _remind me_ of _that_.”

Adrien pushes up his glasses to rub his eyes. “Why did she wake you up?” 

Plagg props himself up on his elbows and jerks his head toward Marinette. “Wanted to know where she was.”

Marinette is pretty sure her heart stops beating. “W-why?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, dear,” Tikki says gently. “She just thought you might be at the studio getting extra practice.”

“And demanded to know why you were getting special treatment,” Plagg adds. He rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Sp-special treatment?! Wh—” She gives Tikki a panicked look.

“I told her that the studio was locked up and only instructors have the key,” Tikki says. “We didn’t know where you’d gone, but it wasn’t there.” 

Plagg stares down Marinette and Adrien. “No one _knows_ you have keys, right?” 

“No,” Marinette says quickly. 

Adrien shakes his head. “I didn’t see a reason to tell anyone.”

“I-I know you aren’t playing favorites,” she wrings her hands, “but why _did_ you give me a key?”

“I wanted to.” Tikki smiles. “There are a few other students with keys, they just use them much more sparingly than you two.”

Plagg scoffs. 

“If I had reason to give Chloé a key, she’d have one. But she didn’t need one. Speaking of the studio…” She motions to the blanket fort. “How much sleep did you two get?”

Marinette and Adrien exchange a look. Adrien winces.

“Not enough,” Plagg says with a scoff.  
  
“Maybe two hours?” Adrien guesses.

Plagg lets out a low whistle. “You’re going to die.”

“Already there,” Adrien says, a dead look in his eyes.

“You have half an hour to get to the studio,” Tikki muses. “Usually I wouldn’t recommend it but—”

“ _Down_ that Red Bull,” Plagg interrupts.

Adrien takes a deep breath. “Okay. Right.” He turns to Marinette and gives her a little bit of a frantic smile. “Meet you downstairs in ten for a quick Starbucks run?”

“Nathalie will kill you,” Marinette says, already opening the door with her room key in hand.

“Like I said, I’m already dead.”

She laughs as she jogs down the hall to her room. Today is going to be a _day_.

—«·»— 

“Where did you go this morning?” Chloé demands, standing over Marinette as she ties her pointe shoes as quickly as she can. She’s destroyed her two other pairs of shoes and is on her third, and last, pair. Her performance shoes are still carefully stored in her suitcase.

Marinette stifles a yawn. “Last night,” she corrects. She gives Chloé a half hearted glare. “My friend lives in the city and they wanted to meet up.” 

“After midnight?!” Chloé practically screeches.

 Marinette downs the rest of her coffee. Her second cup before class has even started. Adrien had taken over ordering, she had been too tired to even pay attention to what was happening. Adrien had texted the group chat, asking Alya and Nino what drinks had the most caffeine. Whatever that had been, he’d gotten four. They’d both finished one on the way to the studio and then nursed the other one whenever they got a chance as they rushed to get ready for class. Two cups of coffee before seven in the morning. She’s going to die.

“Why would someone want to meet up—” Chloé’s eyes go wide. “Did—”

“Anxiety attack,” Marinette says sharply. This time her glare is more forceful. “And I wasn’t leaving them alone. So _don’t_.”

Chloé makes a face. 

Adrien taps Marinette’s bun. “Tikki wants to shorten your solo rehearsal today, she asked me to let you know.”  
  
Marinette tilts her head to look up at him. He gives her a small smile. “Thank god,” she murmurs. “More time to nap.”

Chloé inhales sharply. Marinette looks to her just in time to receive a cold glare before she stomps her way into the studio.

Marinette rolls her eyes and goes to take a sip of coffee, forgetting that her cup is sadly empty. She groans and tosses the cup into the trash.

“Are you going to make it?” Adrien asks, his cup following her own.

“No,” she moans. “I’m _not_.” 

He hauls her to the feet. “Class is starting. Stay on your feet for the next four hours—”

Marinette groans again as Adrien laughs.

—«·»—

“How are you still going?” Marinette mumbles from her spot on the floor. About ten minutes into what her and Adrien usually use as free studio time before their solos, she decided to just lay on the ground. She just doesn’t have the energy to do anything else. 

“Dance wakes me up,” Adrien says, before launching into a turn sequence that’s too complicated for Marinette’s brain to keep up with right now. 

“Usually it wakes me up too, but—” She sighs and tucks her face into the crook of her arm. “Nope. Not today.”

“Take a nap,” Adrien suggests. 

Marinette just hums and watches him lazily, letting the soft music relax her. There’s something about watching Adrien that makes it impossible to look away. 

He holds himself like a masterpiece. From a purely artistic eye, he's perfect. From a technical eye, he's perfect. She can see the cracks he tries to hide with a bright smile.

Yes, Adrien’s basically as near to perfection as you can expect a nonprofessional dancer to be. Can she call him that? Is he a professional dancer? Does he consider himself one? Marinette decides that she’s too exhausted to be debating that right now and turns her attention back to Adrien.

His lines are smooth and perfect, like the perfect curve of a drawing. He moves with such ease and sensitivity to the music. There’s a slight stiffness to it, which just adds to the aura of perfection. There’s the stiffness from the years and years of intense training, and the result is a technical perfection that Marinette can’t even attempt to dream of.

Sometimes, when the music or choreography is just right, she’ll see part of him shine through. And those are the moments where she’s truly entranced. In those moments, Adrien isn’t just dancing. He’s the music. He’s pure emotion and light and _life_. 

It’s most noticeable when he’s practicing his solo. The dance was tailored for him, it cracks him and breaks him open and lets him shine. Plagg must have noticed these moments. He must’ve found a way to collect them into the solo to give the world a true performance. A true gift.

But then there are different moments. Ones where there’s such an intense longing and _ache_ for something that’s not that there that it’s painful to watch. In those moments, Marinette wants to stop him and just hold him close and take away the emptiness. 

Adrien pauses the music. “You want a coffee?” he asks breathlessly, knocking Marinette out of her head and back into reality. “I think I need one if I’m going to get through the next two hours without passing out.”

Marinette hums in agreement, watching the light and longing start to disappear from his face, replaced with his careful mask.

He leaves the studio and takes the light with him.

—«·»—

Marinette blinks, only half conscious, to see a halo of gold and a coffee cup. “You’re an angel,” she mumbles, taking the coffee cup and inhaling the steam.

Adrien laughs and sits down next to her. “Not an angel, just a guy with some coffee.” 

“I don’t even like coffee.” She takes a careful sip. Her tongue is too burnt from the coffee she gulped down this morning for there to be much pain. “I like you though.”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. He tilts his head and smiles at her. “I like you too.”

There’s a single sharp knock on the door before Plagg barges in. Marinette has accepted the fact that Plagg doesn’t feel the need to wait to be allowed in and has moved on. “Awake?” he asks, smirking down at the two of them on the floor.

“Barely,” Marinette grumbles.

Tikki peaks in over Plagg’s shoulder. “How many cups is that?” she asks with raised eyebrows.

“This is three.” Adrien raises his cup to her in a toast.

“So the caffeine addiction begins,” she murmurs.

Plagg makes a face. “Oof. Nat’s going to lose her mind.”

Adrien shrugs. “It was going to happen eventually. Isn’t living off of coffee required for university?” He looks to Marinette with a smile playing on the corner of his lips.

She giggles into her coffee. 

Plagg taps the top of Adren’s head. “Good thing you’re probably not going to a regular university then, huh kid?”

Adrien shrugs. “A requirement for adulthood then,” he amends before going back to drinking his coffee.

“Good thing you have Sunday off.” Tikki shuts the door and makes her way over to the stereo.

Marinette looks to Adrien who shakes his head.

“We do?” they ask.

“Well everyone else who usually has rehearsals on Sunday still has to drop in, but no solos and no duet for you two. Plagg and I decided after classes ended today.” Tikki sets up the stereo and soft music floats through the speakers.

“But—” 

She holds up a hand and cuts Adrien off. “You’ve both been working hard and _clearly_ ,” she eyes the coffee cups, “need a break. Besides, you don’t want any injuries from overuse.” She smiles at Adrien and he pointedly casts his eyes to the floor.

Plagg grabs Adrien’s arm and hauls him to his feet. “Now let’s dance that caffeine off so you can go back to your rooms and crash.”

—«·»—

Marinette is already half asleep when she unlocks her door. Adrien had somehow seemed completely awake by the end of their rehearsals, joking that he could carry her to her room if she didn’t think she was going to make it. As she pushes the door open, she thinks she should’ve taken up his offer. 

She almost walks right into Chloé.

She groans internally and steps around her, shutting the door with a kick. “Hi, Chloé.” She tosses her bag next to the bed and pulls off her shoes, thinking her bed looks incredibly comfortable right now. 

Chloé clears her throat loudly and turns to Marinette.

Marinette frowns looking around the room. It’s…off. “Where are Sabrina and Aurore? Isn’t it Wednesday?” Sabrina hardly goes anywhere without Chloé and on Wednesdays Aurore takes control of the bathroom for a few hours to video chat with her best friend.

“They went out,” Chloé says sharply. 

Her sharpness sends a shiver down Marinette’s spine, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up and a pit of anxiety open up in her stomach. “Is something wrong?” Marinette asks. She copies Chloé’s stance, arms crossed with a set jaw.

Chloé tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough,” she says, leaning forward.

Marinette drops her arms, hard expression falling. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

Chloé waves her hands. “All of this _goofing around_ and hanging out with your friends and leaving in the middle of the night. God—”

“I told you! I needed to go help a friend,” Marinette says defensively. She starts to protest that _everyone_ has been having fun. _Everyone_ goes out, _everyone_ has gone to visit friends. _Chloé_ has done _exactly_ what she’s yelling at Marinette for. She’s disappeared at random times, she’s gone out to shows, she’s gone shopping, she spent the entire weekends at her father’s—

“You were practically _asleep_ at the _barre_ this morning!” Chloé hisses.

Marinette bites back ‘so was Adrien!’ because she will _not_ throw him under this bus. Neither of them are at fault here, there have been days where Aurore almost fell asleep while stretching, when Nathanael stumbled over a combination because he was zoning out. It’s not fair that _Chloé_ is demanding perfection from her, especially when she has no _place to_.

“I was _awake_ ,” Marinette snaps. “Sure, I was tired. Could I have slept more? Probably. But I _knew_ what was going on. I learned choreography, I listened to corrections. I am going to work twice as hard as I have been to make sure I am where I need to be.” She takes a deep breath and reaches up to start undoing her hair, trying to make a point to Chloé that she is _moving on_.

“I don’t _trust you_ in such a lead role.” 

Marinette’s hands freeze in her hair. Her heart is being squeezed in Chloé’s vindictive grip, her perfectly manicured nails making her bleed. She can’t think, she can’t move, she can’t _breathe_ . She swallows thickly and tries to channel what she’s feeling into a glare. “ _What._ ”

Chloé marches over, shoving Marinette by the shoulder. “You are _not_ taking this as seriously as you should because _you_ are a _charity case_ . You don’t _deserve_ to be here.”

“I don’t deserve to be—” Every thought Marinette had when the summer started comes screaming back to her. She tries to block them and Chloé out with Alya’s reassurances. She’s good enough. She’s good enough, she _deserves this_. As much as anyone else. As much as Chloé. “I won a scholarship,” she says tightly. She repeats it to herself again and again and again. She believes it. She won’t let Chloé shake that belief.

“Scholarships mean _nothing_ ,” Chloé says with a sneer. “Honestly, they’re given to make the people in charge look good. It has nothing to do with your…” She looks Marinette up and down and scrunches her nose. “…talent.”

Marinette feels her face burn. She can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger, but she feels the overwhelming urge to punch Chloé in her perfect little nose.

Chloé jabs her finger at Marinette’s chest. “It’s a one thing when it comes to your solo. Because you can crash and burn and the only one who will be hurt is _you_. And maybe Tikki. But honestly, with the amount of favoritism Tikki shows sometimes? Maybe she deserves to get _knocked down_ a peg. But the production? The group dances? Your _duet_? With _Adrien_? What were they _thinking_?!” She scoffs. “ _You’re_ going to _ruin_ him. He has a _career_. Do you?” 

“I—”

Chloé steamrolls on. Marinette never dared to think that Chloé cared about what she has to say, but it still feels like a punch in the gut to be shot down without any more chances to defend herself.

“No. you don’t.” Chloé narrows her eyes. _“You_ don’t have a career in ballet. And you probably never will. And I will _not_ let you destroy Adrien’s along the way.” She gives Marinette one more glare before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Marinette stares at the door in silence.

She stares at it until her legs give out and she collapses onto the bed, only now noticing the hot tears running down her face. She wipes them away as she sniffs. She _refuses_ to let Chloé make her feel this way. She’s a good dancer. She earned the parts she got. She deserves to be here. She isn’t just a charity case. A charity case. Charity— 

She covers her mouth with her hand and chokes back a sob.

Vision blurred by tears, she fumbles with her phone as she tries to unlock it. She tries to control her breathing as it rings too loudly in her ear. All she can manage is quiet her cries to hiccups and shuddering sobs.

“ _Mari? What—_ ”

“I- I—” Marinette shoves her bangs up, pressing the base of her palm to her forehead. “I c-can’t—”

Alya immediately takes control of the situation. “ _Breathe, Mar. You need to breathe. Can you breathe with me?_ ”

Marinette follows Alya’s breathing until she feels less lightheaded. Less like she’s going to burst. Like she’s going to rip her hair out or scream or curl up in a ball and stop existing. She manages to explain to Alya what happened. She can barely tell what she’s saying, everything is just spilling out in a mess of words that she’ll be glad not to remember. She’s sure she’ll be able to find something to be disgusted by if she does. 

She can feel Alya fuming through the phone. “ _That little—_ ”

“Alya please,” Marinette protests, hugging a pillow tight as she sits upright against the headboard. If she lays down she may never move again. 

“ _No,_ no _, I can say what I_ want,” Alya snaps. “ _What the f—_ ” There’s a loud thump, and Marinette assumes Alya either threw something or hit something. Marinette swallows back another sob as she waits for Alya to calm down. Retelling what happened didn’t make her feel any better. 

Alya takes a deep breath. “ _Please say you’re going to tell someone_.”

“She hasn’t done anything to me,” Marinette says softly. She winces as Alya inhales sharply.

“Hasn’t done— _Mari I get that you’ve been trying to avoid major confrontation because her dad is the mayor or—_ ” 

“And a sponsor of the intensive,” Marinette adds. 

“ _And a sponsor, but none of that was ok for her to say! She can’t_ say things like that! _I mean, if you went to Tikki or Plagg I know they’d be on your side._ ”

 _And Chloé could get them fired,_ Marinette thinks. She doesn’t think she can do that to them. She won’t let Chloé hurt anyone else. “They might be on my side,” she says, “but that doesn’t mean they can do anything about it. Chloé has money. Her father has power. It’ll be my word against hers. Anyone caught in the crossfire— Alya, if I say anything she could easily destroy any chance I have at a- a career.” Marinette swallows hard. Chloé’s words are still ringing in her head, making her feel slightly nauseous.

Alya goes quiet. “ _If you aren’t going to do anything, I will_ ,” she says after a moment. “ _I don’t know how, but I swear to any higher power that exists that I will. For now I’ll settle for fantasizing about punching her in her perfect little nose. And one day I’ll write a tell all exposé on her or something. Really ruin her life._ ” 

Marinette laughs weakly.

“ _You laugh now, but who will be laughing when I publish the exposé of a lifetime?_ ” Alya considers it. “ _Okay, you’ll probably still be laughing because it’ll destroy Chloé and everything she stands for, but Chloé sure won’t be laughing_.” 

“Thank you,” Marinette says softly 

“ _Of course. What are best friends for if not to wish a fate worst than death on your worst enemies? You’re halfway through week seven, less than four weeks left and you won’t have to live with her anymore. You’ll be able to hate her from a distance like I do. Now let me tell you, there was this_ one customer _that decided to_ really _test my patience. If you were here you would’ve lost it, I swear…”_  

Marinette rests her chin on her pillow and lets Alya wash her away into her stories. She closes her eyes and she’s not here, she’s back in her bedroom above the bakery, listening to Alya rant as her maman cooks dinner and her papa closes up.

For a little while, it’s really nice to get away.

* * *

Marinette groans as she pulls herself out of bed. It’s her day off, as deemed by Tikki and Plagg, and that means whatever time it is, it’s _too early for this_. 

“What?” she grumbles, pulling the door open without checking to see who’s standing outside it.

Adrien gives her a lopsided smile. “Cute pajamas.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Ha ha.” She steps aside to let him in, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. Aurore left early to meet her girlfriend before her afternoon rehearsal for a small group dance she has, and Sabrina and Chloé have gone off to wherever they go off to. The studio, the mall, some building somewhere that Marinette does _not_ care about. “What time is it?” 

“Just before eight.” 

Marinette groans and slides down the door to the floor. 

“I’m sorry, weren't _you_ the one who wanted to go out _before_ meeting Nino? Because you haven’t had a chance to explore the city yet? And it’d be a waste of a trip if the only places you went were your bedroom, the studio, and Starbucks?” Adrien sits down on one of the beds. “This is _your plan_.”

“And I hate myself for it.” She pushes herself off the floor. “Let me get changed.” She changes quickly as Adrien texts in the group chat, her phone buzzing loudly on the bathroom counter with each text. “Would you three shut up?” she asks as she leaves the bathroom to grab her makeup bag that has gone woefully unused this whole summer. 

“Never,” Adrien says, getting up from the bed. He leans against the bathroom doorway as she empties her makeup bag on the counter. “I didn’t know you wore makeup.”

“I haven’t worn makeup in what feels like forever.” She spreads her makeup out on the counter. “There’s no point in wearing it to rehearsal. Now hush up and let me put on my face.” She picks up her eyeshadow pallet and opens it. “I’ve missed you,” she says to it.

Adrien stifles a laugh and she sticks her tongue out at him. “Sorry,” he says, not even bothering to hide his smile. 

“This palette cost half my life. I’m allowed to talk to it,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him. “Besides, I miss doing makeup. Doing stage makeup is not the same. I do the _best_ cat eye.”

“I can do a pretty killer smoky eye,” Adrien admits. “And once I got over the fear of poking out my own eyes, I found out I’m pretty good at eyeliner.”

“Eyeliner _makes_ me want to poke my eyes out,” Marinette says. There’s something calming in putting makeup on. Part of her routine that she’s sorely missed these past seven weeks. Her phone buzzes a few more times, alerting her that things are probably happening in the group chat. “What’s that?”

“Nino confirming lunch,” Adrien says. “He says he’ll meet us there. And now Alya’s just sending lots of sobbing emojis.” 

Marinette frowns. Alya had said that she’d try to come up today, she has the day off. “Why did she say she can’t come? Haven’t checked my phone yet this morning.”

“She has an article that she needs to finish.” Adrien gives her a concerned look. “She seems kind of stressed. But at the same time she’s just saying how unfair it is that it’s keeping her from coming.” He looks back down at his phone as they receive more texts.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Tell Alya to get on the train.”

Adrien furrows his eyebrows. “What did you say?”

Marinette twists open her mascara. “Tell Alya to get her laptop and get on the train. If she’s blocked, she works best if she has nothing else she can do. The train is the perfect place for that. Nothing to do but work on the article or stare at other people or out the window. Besides, she’s not going to get anything done if she’s sitting around being mopey.”

He types rapidly for a moment. Marinette’s phone vibrates, indicating the that the message was sent. She finishes her mascara and blinks a few times before deciding she’s satisfied.

“Alya says she’s not mopey,” Adrien announces.

Marinette puts down the mascara and gives him a flat look. “Really? You told her I said that?”

“Verbatim,” he says with a cheeky smile.

“I hate you,” she mutters before swiping on lipgloss. 

“And yet you still choose to hang out with me as much as you do.”

She glances at him in the mirror and his smile has softened to sometime more gentle, more sincere. 

He’s right. She spends a lot of time with him, even outside of the studio. Her and Aurore have some sort of weird friendship that comes with being roommates. She’s been out with Nathanael during lunch breaks a few times, and spends quite a lot of time with Rose. But add all the time she’s spent with everyone except Adrien, and it’s still significantly less than the time she spends with him.

On the other hand, if Adrien isn’t in the studio, he’s either alone, with her, or with Tikki, Plagg, or both. There were a couple times where he was with Chloé, but those times were few and far between. She wonders if there’s significance in that. 

“God knows why,” she says.

“Maybe it’s my good looks and charming personality.” He lifts his chin as if he’s modeling.

Marinette scoffs, ignoring how it’s impossible for him _not_ to look good. “Yeah right.”

“Admit it, Marinette,” he pushes off the doorframe and steps into the bathroom. He picks up her eyeliner and twirls it between his fingers. He smirks at her. “I’m charming.”

She stares into his eyes for a long moment before scoffing and snatching the eyeliner from him. She is not getting trapped in those green eyes today. “Charming as a toad.” 

“Come on, what’s not charming about me?” he teases, reaching for her bronzer.

She bats away his hand. “ _Everything._ ” She presses a hand to his chest and shoves him back a step.

“Would I be more charming if I started quoting Disney characters?” Adrien asks.

Marinette stops packing up her makeup to look at him. “Excuse me?”

Adrien takes her hand in his. “Your eyes are like sapphires, sparkling so bright they make the morning radiant and light.” He presses a kiss to the back of her hand.

She glances away, catching her reflection in the mirror and seeing herself blushing. “Nice one, Shakespeare.” 

“Not Shakespeare,” Adrien swings their intertwined hands between them, “pure O’Malley.”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “O’Malley?”

“O’Malley the alley cat,” he sing songs with a smile. “Aristocats.” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Of course. The one with the pun in the title.”

“Would you expect anything else, my Lady?”

Marinette sighs. “Honestly, no.”

Adrien smiles brightly. “I think you secretly like my sense of humor.”

“Your sense of humor is garbage and you _know it_.” She zips up her makeup bag and pulls him out of the bathroom. “How Nino puts up with you, I’ll never know.”

“How do you put up with me?”

“You bought me Starbucks the other day,” she says with a shrug. “Someone has to fund my addiction, and I’ll take the rich kid, thank you very much.”

Adrien laughs in surprise. “At least you’re honest about using me.”

Marinette’s gaze snaps to the door as the lock clicks. Her eyes widen as Chloé pushes it open. Chloé meets her eyes and glares before noticing Adrien. Marinette’s blood runs cold as she feels Chloé staring at their intertwined hands.

“Hey, Chlo,” Adrien says. He either didn’t notice the drastic change in the room’s atmosphere or chose to ignore it. “I thought you had rehearsal.” 

“I have a break. I forgot something,” she says shortly. She bats her eyes at him and practically skips over, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Marinette looks away. 

“Why are you here, Adrikins?” Chloé’s voice is sickly sweet, more so than usual, and Marinette thinks she might throw up. 

“I’m going to show Marinette around the city before we go meet Nino for lunch.” He squeezes Marinette’s hand when he says her name and it grounds her a little more than she’d like to admit.

Chloé gives her a tight lipped smile. “Have fun.” The iciness in her tone makes the hair on the back of Marinette’s neck stand up.

“Yeah, we should probably get going.” Marinette grabs her purse and phone and drags Adrien behind her. “Have a good rehearsal,” she adds. She can do civil. She can do civil for Adrien. 

“See you later, Chloé,” Adrien says before shutting the door behind them. “Where do you want to go first?” he asks Marinette. She can’t read his expression, and has no idea how he interpreted her and Chloé’s interaction. It makes her uncomfortable.

She forces a smile. “You’re the one who lives in the city. I’ll follow wherever you go.”

Adrien scrunches up his face in concentration. “Are you ready for the most tourist-y morning of your life?” he asks with a smirk.

“Am I going to regret this?” she asks.

“I hope you don’t mind being surrounded by Americans.” Adrien pulls Marinette down the hall. “We’re going to complete the tourist checklist this morning, and you’re going to enjoy every cliche second of it.”

—«·»—

Nino slides over in the booth to let Adrien sit down when he sees them enter the restaurant. “Look at this, the ballet gods have come down from their dance heaven.” 

Adrien rolls his eyes and elbows him. “Shut up.” 

Nino raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, do you _ever_ go anywhere but the studio and your room?” 

“We go to Starbucks,” Marinette offers with a shrug.

He shakes his head. “Dude, that’s just sad.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Adrien says, “we spent all morning doing tourist-y stuff.” 

Nino makes a face. “ _Really_?” 

Marinette reaches across the table to shove Nino’s hat down in his face.

“Hey!” 

“Hey yourself.” She sits back and crosses her arms. “I hadn’t seen a lot of the more tourist-y stuff before today.” 

Nino takes his hat off and puts it on the table. “Are you telling me you’ve been living _in Paris_ for a full seven weeks and you’re only _now_ going sight seeing?”

She picks up the menu. “I have my priorities in order.” 

“Your priorities are _boring_ ,” Nino says.

“And you were just ragging on tourist stuff, so I’d choose a side and stick with it,” Adrien suggests with a sly smile.

Marinette shrieks as someone grabs her from the back.

“Surprise!” Alya shouts. 

Marinette gasps and twists around to face Alya. She swats at her as Alya ducks away and laughs. “Not funny!”

“Worth it,” Alya says with a smirk. “Scoot over and let me in.”

“How’s the article?” Adrien asks.

She sighs and pulls her laptop up on the table, opening it and pushing it towards Marinette. Marinette unlocks it and starts skimming the article as Alya rambles on.

“…few hundred words? I don’t know. The perspective is strange and I think the middle part is too…” Alya motions to Marinette as she struggles to find a way to describe it.

“Uh…” Marinette’s eyes dart from sentence to sentence. “Wordy?”

Nino snorts and Alya shoves her glasses up on her forehead before dragging her fingers through her hair. 

“Kill me,” she grumbles.

“Can we order before doing that?” Adrien suggest.

“Good plan,” Alya says, sitting up straighter. “I was too wrapped up in my work to eat this morning.”

“All of you with your not eating thing,” Nino mutters. “I ate an entire bag of Doritos in like half an hour last night.”

Marinette gives Nino a confused look. “What do you mean ‘not eating thing’? I live above a _bakery_. When I’m there I’m _usually_ swiping from our pile of pastries and sweets deemed unworthy of selling to customers.”

Nino’s eyes widen. “Wait, seriously? A bakery?” 

Alya frowns. “Have we really never talked about this?”

“Yeah, Alya complains about going to work all the time,” Adrien says, glancing up from the menu.

She groans. “Some _customers_.”

“The customer always know best,” Marinette says dutifully, fixing the awkward wording in one of Alya’s sentences.

“Sometimes the customer should shove their opinion up their—” 

“Weren’t we ordering?” Adrien interrupts.

Once they’ve ordered lunch and Marinette has slid Alya’s laptop back to her, Alya reaches her hand across the table to Nino. “I just realized we’ve literally never met.”

“You say that like you haven’t been irritatingly changing the group chat name for the past few weeks,” Nino says, shaking her hand. 

Alya narrows her eyes and pulls her phone out. “You’re welcome,” she says, putting her phone down on the table after a minute.

 **the greatest person ever has changed the name of this conversation to ‘ninos a butt’.**  

Adrien stifles a laugh, earning him a glare from Nino. Adrien turns his laugh into a cough and schools his face into something more serious. “Not funny, Alya,” he says as his eyes twinkle. 

“Of course it’s not,” Alya says in her ‘serious journalist voice’. Her eyes widen and she turns to Marinette with a wide smile. “And I just realized this is the first time I’ve seen you out of tights in _weeks_!” 

Marinette rolls her eyes. “You’ve seen me out of tights plenty of times.” 

“Mmm do pajamas _really_ count?” Alya teases. 

“Yes,” Adrien and Nino answer automatically. 

“Pajama day,” Nino says, “arguably the best day of the school year.” 

“I will give you that,” Alya admits.

“What’s pajama day?” Adrien asks.

Alya pats his hand. “You precious, sheltered marshmallow.”

Adren gives her a look. 

“You wear your pajamas to school,” Marinette explains. “It’s exactly what it says on the tin.”

“And an awesome excuse to not get changed in the morning,” Nino adds.

“The great thing about university is that you can kind of wear pajamas whenever and really no one will care,” Alya says. She takes Adrien’s phone from him and tries to unlock it. 

“Uh…”

She ignores him and turns to Marinette. “What’s his password?” 

Marinette blinks. “…why would I know his password?” 

Nino grabs the phone from Alya and unlocks it before tossing back to her.

Adrien presses a hand to his chest. “Betrayed by my best friend.”

Nino shrugs. “You laughed bro, the real Brutus here is you.”

Marinette leans over to watch Alya change her contact name to ‘undeniably better than nino’. Alya raises her eyebrows at Marinette and tilts the phone away from her, typing something else before handing the phone back to Adrien. Adrien reads whatever Alya wrote and turns pink, quickly pocketing his phone. 

Alya twirls the straw in her drink. “Listen, Mar, you’re wearing _makeup_. That is cause for _celebration_.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “We already had our ‘end of the competition season’ party. What else can we do?”

Alya shrugs. “Pig out on ice cream when you get home?” 

“I thought we were doing that anyway?”

“What was your ‘end of competition season’ party?” Nino asks. “Did we miss out?”

“We ate too much junk food and marathoned the Twilight movies,” Alya says.

Nino makes a face. “You _enjoy_ those movies?” 

Marinette and Alya exchange a look before laughing.

“I’d say that’s a no,” Adrien mock whispers to Nino.

“They’re fun to not take seriously,” Marinette says. “Alya likes to rip them to shreds.”

Adrien purses his lips. “I would’ve thought Alya likes to rip everything to shreds.”

“I do,” Alya admits. “Especially my first drafts. We had a fire for those once. Those and our final papers. Fun times.”

“We _are_ missing out,” Adrien says to Nino. 

Nino scoffs. “Yeah but we also marathoned Sailor Moon before you left. I feel like that’s a win.”

“They’re weebs,” Alya whispers to Marinette. “We’ve found the one drawback.”

Marinette bites her lip to keep from laughing.

Nino points his straw at Alya. “Whatever you just said, I’m offended.”

She smirks. “Good. Be offended.”

—«·»— 

Adrien and Nino’s heads are bent together, sharing headphones as they walk down the street. Adrien throws his head back as he laughs. Nino wraps his arm around Adrien’s shoulder. 

Alya bumps her shoulder against Marinette’s. “I can’t believe it’s been seven full weeks and _this_ is as far as you’ve gotten.”

Marinette turns pink and bumps Alya right back. “Shut up,” she mumbles.

“Come on, you know you love him.” 

Maybe, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Alya. “What do you think of Nino?” Marinette asks. 

Alya claps. “Look at that flawless subject change, folks!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Al, you’ve always got an opinion or observation you’re dying to talk about. Don’t hang back now.”

“But I’m not done complaining about how slow this summer romance is!” Alya whines.

“Well I am!” Marinette loops her arm through Alya’s. “Spill.” 

Alya stares at Nino’s back. “He’s…tall.”

Marinette tilts her head and follows Alya’s gaze. “…okay?” 

Alya nods. “He’s tall. Taller than I expected him to be.” 

Marinette studies Alya’s face, which is surprisingly blank. She shakes her head and looks back to the boys. “Alright, he’s tall. What else?”

“What do you mean ‘what else’?” Alya scowls. “Is there supposed to _be_ anything else.”

“I am not as good at this as you are,” Marinette admits.

Alya stops dead in her tracks, yanking Marinette back. “What do you mean by that?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. She doesn’t doubt her and Adrien will rant to each other about this during a break tomorrow. “Nothing, Al. Come on, we should catch up.”

“But—”

“Come on!” Marinette drags Alya forward, catching up to the boys as they reach the corner.

Adrien catches Marinette’s eye and smiles brightly.

“I told you man! Straight fire,” Nino insists.

Alya scoffs. “Keep dreaming.”

Nino pulls out his earbud and hands it to Adrien. “You have never _heard_ my music,” he says to Alya, “and with that attitude, you never will.”

“Is that _really_ a loss?” she asks.

“It’s yours,” Adrien says, nodding his head to the beat.

Nino shoots Alya a smug smile. “Take that.”

“Oh _wow_ ,” she drawls. “An indorsement from your _best friend_. Incredible.”

Nino sticks his tongue out at her as she tugs Marinette across the street. 

“Shouldn’t we let the people who know Paris lead us?” Marinette asks lightly when Alya drags them a few steps in front of the boys.

“I suddenly thought of something that I was going to ask you but then I forgot about it.” Alya glances over her shoulder. “I figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it in front of some of the rest of the party.”

Marinette sighs. “Is this about Adrien because—”

“No.” Alya pulls Marinette a little closer. “I know you don’t _really_ want to talk about it—”

“ _Oh_.” 

“—but Chloé?”

Marinette shrugs. “It’s… We’re fine. We’ll…be fine? I don’t know, we don’t talk.” 

Alya frowns. “You say ‘we’re fine’ like you’re friends who had an argument.” 

Marinette brushes her bangs out of her face. “I don’t know, Al. It’s…weird? She hasn’t really said anything to me since then. Sabrina has followed her example and Aurore gives me confused looks sometimes like she wants to ask what’s going on but she hasn’t done or said anything. Probably doesn’t want to get involved, which is smart.”

“Okay…”

“So if you wanted to know if Chloé apologized, I don’t know why you even bothered asking.” 

Alya hesitates for a step, pulling Marinette back a little. She shakes her head and keeps moving. “I was asking because I wanted to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m angry,” Marinette admits. “I’m…kind of hurt but I’m mostly angry.”

“I am too, but I wasn’t the one she _attacked_. You sure you’re only _kind of_ hurt?” 

“Why did this turn into an investigation?” Marinette teases as gently as she can. Alya was right, Marinette _doesn’t_ want to talk about this. And not because she thinks it’ll just blow over. She just doesn’t want to think about it any more than she already has.

“Okay, okay! We’re done. You’re not sad, you’re just pissed and Chloé is being a brat about the situation. We can move on now.” Alya waves away the subject.

“What are we moving on from,” Nino asks, leaning forward. 

“None of your business.” She pretends to elbow him away.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Adrien asks.

Marinette gives Alya a look. Alya whistles and looks away.

“I’ve got this, dudes,” Nino says. “And you want to take a right up ahead.”

Alya smirks and bumps her hip against Marinette’s. 

Marinette groans. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Alya asks innocently. “Don’t slide and slide, ball change, right turn, and glide?” Marinette lets Alya drag her around with an eye roll. But Alya doesn’t miss how she falls in step for the glide. Alya grins widely.

“ _Please,_ don’t—”

“What, has Manon gotten better at this than you?” Alya interrupts.

Marinette narrows her eyes. “ _Excuse me_?”

“ _Oooo_.” Alya wiggles her eyebrows.

“Who’s Manon?” Adrien asks.

“A girl I babysit.” Sure, Marinette had originally choreographed this _for_ Manon, but there was no way the student was surpassing the master. Especially since the student couldn’t remember the second half. 

“Are you ready?” Alya teases.

Marinette tosses her head to get her bangs out of her eyes. She keeps her arm looped firmly through Alya’s. If she’s doing this, then Alya is the one who has to try and keep up. “When am I not?” Marinette asks. She yanks Alya forward for the dig and kick, Alya laughing as she fumbles over the footwork. 

It takes her a few steps, but by the time Marinette has finished the combination and is about to repeat, Alya is with her. Alya tosses a glance over her shoulder. “Try and keep up!” she challenges the boys.

“I got this,” Nino announces. 

Marinette looks back with a laugh. “Hop, skip, in _out_! Not hop, skip, out, _in_.”

Adrien shakes his head. “What does that even _mean_?”

Nino grabs Adrien’s arm and pulls him in line. “Come on man, you can do it.”

“I really don’t think I can,” Adrien protests as he nearly trips.

Alya skips a few steps to catch up with Marinette. “Hey! You can’t change the combo!”

Marinette scoffs. “I’m the _choreographer_. I can do whatever I want!” 

“Cheater,” Adrien mutters. She shoots him a smile.

“ _Listen_ ,” Alya says, “when we get to the arcade I’m totally going to _destroy_ you at DDR.” 

Marinette rolls her eyes. “You could _never_ beat me in DDR.” 

—«·»—

“I can’t believe you beat me!” Marinette yells.

Adrien laughs and puts his hands in his pockets. 

“No one beats me at DDR,” she protests. “ _No one_!”

He bops her on the nose. “Hm, that’s weird. Because I just did.”

She scrunches her nose and scowls. “I want a rematch.”

“Maybe next time.”

She holds on tight to that ‘next time’. It’s the promise of seeing each other after the summer ends. That should be a given, with how close they've gotten and the fact that they’re now part of the same group of friends, but Marinette has found that nothing with friends is a given. Alya is her one constant and exception. She hopes she can add Adrien to that list.

“Good day off?” Adrien asks. 

Marinette hums in agreement.

“Even with all the tourist stuff?” he teases.

She bumps him with her shoulder. “It was great. Alya and Nino are killing me, though.” 

He laughs. “Okay, good. I wasn’t just seeing things.”

“Pff, no. Alya refuses to admit that anything might be there. All she had to say about him was that he’s ‘tall’.” 

Adrien frowns. “Tall?” 

Marinette shrugs. “He is tall.”

“Hm…” Adrien glances in the direction Alya had headed off towards the train station. “Nino said Alya’s cool.”

“High praise,” Marinette drawls.

He shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll get rant texts about something eventually.” 

She agrees silently. Despite their completely oblivious friends, she had had a lot of fun. Adrien had soundly beat Nino and Alya in most of the games at the arcade. And then Marinette had beat Adrien. Alya and Nino refused to let them team up, deciding that it was basically the same as cheating, and claimed their best friend for their team. Marinette had to admit, Alya was getting better at DDR, although she still lost pretty badly. But Adrien. Adrien hadn’t beaten Marinette by much, but he had beaten her and hardly broke a sweat. 

“Well that doesn’t look good,” Adrien murmurs, breaking the comfortable silence they’ve settled into. 

Marinette glances over to him in surprise. “What?”

He takes her hand and motions to the sky with his other. “I think it’s going to rain.”

As if cued, she feels a raindrop hit her nose. She wipes it away and says, “I think I might have to agree with you on that one.”

Adrien stops walking and holds out a hand as the rain falls harder.

“How far away are we?”

“Ten minutes.”

“And neither of us have an umbrella. Or jacket.”

They exchange a look and shrug, walking faster. They break into a sprint as thunder cracks.

The streets of Paris are nearly deserted, all of the more sensible people ducking for cover as the sky opens up and drops its sorrows on the city. The rain makes the pavement glitter and sparkle with the city lights, and if Marinette weren’t getting drenched, she’d stand here for hours and just soak in the beauty.

She laughs and throws her head back, opening up her mouth to try and catch raindrops on her tongue.

Adrien looks to her in surprise. There are barely any cars left on the streets now, the last stragglers are hurrying inside. The only sounds heard on this empty street are that pelting of rain and Marinette’s laughter.

She pulls Adrien in a circle, dancing around the puddles and skipping over cracks in the sidewalk. He wraps an arm around her waist and lets her lead. The butterflies in her stomach flutter their wings and take flight. She dances them through the streets of Paris, Adrien always right in time with her.

They end up pressed together on a street corner. His arm is still around her waist, his other hand brushing her dripping bangs out of her eyes. She has her hands against his chest, clutching wet cotton in her fists.

Adrien has stars in his eyes and sunshine in his smile. He’s everything that Marinette’s ever wanted and everything she’s ever been missing. They fit together perfectly, they walk together in step and they move together as one. She leans her forehead against his, unable to keep a soft smile off her face. Adrien is all she wants. Adrien is _right_.

She looks into his eyes — she sees springtime and life and hope and _laughter_ — and finds him searching her own. Her gazes drops to his lips. She closes the distances between them just the smallest bit. What if? What if she just took the leap and did it? What if she grabbed his hand and pulled him off of this cliff with her? What if they fell in headfirst? What if they didn’t care because they had each other? What if? What if what if _what if what—_

They jerk away as thunder cracks.

What ifs are better left for another time, Marinette decides.

Adrien looks up at the sky, his hair plastered to his forehead and dripping water down his face. “What are the chances of us getting colds?” he asks.

Marinette laughs. “Nothing soup and tea can’t fix, according to my maman.”

He smiles down at her, and it’s like the clouds have broken and the sun has shone through the rain, making the wet streets sparkle in the light. He offers her his hand, wiggling his fingers “Blankets and a movie?”

Marinette takes his hand. She will always take his hand. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Marinette shrieks as Adrien scoops her up in his arms and spins in a circle. She buries her face in her hands to hide her blush. “That is _not_ the choreography!”

Adrien laughs. “Maybe not, but you’re _overthinking_ it!”

“No I’m not!” she protests, lifting her head from her hands. He smirks at her and she pushes his face away. 

“Where’s the Marinette who told me to just ‘feel the music?’” he asks. He raises an eyebrow.

“Trying to get this footwork right before rehearsal starts.” She crosses her arms. “Put me down.”

“Promise to stop thinking so much?”

“I need to get it right!” 

“Yeah, and in doing that you’re getting completely offbeat.” Adrien gives her a serious look and bops her on the nose. “Stop it.”

Marinette stares at him for a second before puffing up her cheeks and sighing. “Fine.” Adrien lights up like she just promised him the world and she looks away before she starts blushing again. She sags against him and kicks her legs. “Now will you put me down?” 

“Will I?” He hums in consideration. “Well if I have the option—”

“You don’t!” Marinette interrupts, trying not to laugh. “Let me down, you… _oaf_.”

Adrien raises his eyebrows. “Wow. _Wow_ . Is that _really_ the best you can come up with? Alya would be disappointed in you.” 

“Oh my god _shut up_.”

He spins them around a few more times before lowering her to the floor. “My Lady,” he says with a bow, kissing the back of her hand.

Marinette scoffs and pushes him back by the nose. “Nope. Not today. I need to _focus_.” 

“I can’t believe _I’m_ the one telling you to relax.”

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” she insists. 

“Then roll back your shoulders,” Adrien suggests, taking her hands in his. “You’ve been all tense this week. It’s making you stiff. Take your own advice for a change, loosen up a bit.”

Marinette gives him a pointed look and rolls back her shoulders. “Happy?”

“I’ll pretend to be if you do too.”

She sighs and looks down at their hands. “Are you a good actor?”

“When I need to be,” he says with a shrug. “You?”

“Good question.”

Adrien glances at the clock on the wall. “Twenty minutes.” 

Marinette gently tugs her hands out of his. Twenty minutes to reach perfection. That’ll be enough.

He watches her silently for a few minutes. As she gets into her zone, she forgets that he’s there. The only thing of any importance is the choreography. After a few more tries, Adrien interrupts her. 

“You know, we still have two and a half weeks,” he says with a raised eyebrow. “It doesn’t have to be perfect tonight.”

Marinette lifts her arms into fifth and raises up en pointe. “If I get it tonight, then I can work on making it perfect every time.”

“But if you keep doing it out of context, how will you know if you’re starting on the right beat and coming out of it correctly?” Adrien asks.

She meets his eyes in the mirror. She forces the butterflies in her stomach to be still. “And?”

He reaches for the stereo. “How about we run it?” It wasn’t so much of a question as a statement, the music already floating through the speakers. He offers her his hand. “May I have this dance, my Lady?”

Marinette smiles. They’ve already missed the first few counts of eight. “You may,” she says with a little curtsy. Adrien takes her hand and sweeps her away into the music. 

* * *

Marinette unlocks the door, flicking the lights on and closing the door behind her. Sabrina and Aurore are still at the studio working on dances and Chloé is out. Marinette is blissfully alone.

Sundays are always sort of quiet. With a schedule that tends to fluctuate from week to week, they’re either everyone’s slow day or day off. Some people who live closer to the city go see family and friends, others just go out into the city to enjoy themselves. Everyone — including Adrien, with only minimal nagging from Tikki involved — takes Sundays to relax and rest. 

Marinette had nothing in the morning, went out for lunch, and has about an hour before she has her solo with Tikki. She drops her purse on the bed and pulls out a pair of tights and a leotard. She scowls as she pulls on the tights; they’ve got runs up the inner thigh. It’s not like she had been planning on wearing the in a performance, they’re old and have lost their bright ballet pink for a duller color, but the runs are still irritating. She’ll have to remember to toss them when she takes them off tonight.

She pulls a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt on over her dance clothes and grabs all of her hair stuff. As she turns the bathroom light on to use the mirror, something in her peripheral vision catches her eye. 

Dropping everything in her hands on the floor, she whirls around to see four pairs of pointe shoes in the tub, submerged in a few inches of water. 

Marinette’s heart stops beating.

She drops to her knees, splashing water all over herself as she gathers the shoes up in her arms and dumps them onto the tiled floor. She knows before she sees the running black marker inside of them. 

She stares at them in shock. Her heart is hammering in her ears and the room is spinning

She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can’t _breathe_. 

With shaking hands, she picks up one of the wet shoes. The water has ruined the glue, but that’s not even the worst of it. The shank is broken beyond repair. Even if they weren’t sopping wet and falling to pieces, she’d never be able to dance in shoes so broken.

She lets out a shuddering breath.

_Her shoes._

Her mental shock is fading to pure panic. Her _shoes_. What is she going to do without shoes?! She doesn’t have enough money on her to go out and buy one new pair of pointe shoes, let alone two. And even if she could buy one pair, she’d be the only one going onstage with shoes not set aside purely for the performance. She thinks she could live with that, but it doesn’t change the fact that she doesn’t have enough money for a single pair. 

She doesn’t even know where in the city to go buy shoes.

She has a rehearsal in less than an hour and she _doesn’t have shoes_. She doesn’t have proof that she hadn’t just left her shoes in the bathtub. She doesn’t have any proof that she didn’t break the shanks herself. She doesn’t have _anything_. 

That’s not true. She has eight wet, broken, _ruined_ pointe shoes. 

Marinette doesn’t feel anymore. She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting here, staring at the drying shoes. She’ll never be able to dance in them again. They’re broken— _she’s_ broken. 

She hears the door unlock and open, but she can’t bring herself to get up off the ground. 

“Marinette?” Aurore asks. “Why are you—” She swears and drops her bag with a thump. Marinette hears her run across the room, probably to check her own shoes. There’s a sigh of relief before Aurore says, “Are those all—”

“What time is it?” Marinette interrupts. Her voice is stronger than she expected it would be. She finds solace in that. It’s a little empty, a little lost, but it hasn’t wavered. 

There’s a pause. “Twenty minutes to one.” 

Marinette closes her eyes. “Thank you.” She stands up. Her legs feel shaky, like she’s weak in the knees. She grabs a towel and leans back down, piling the shoes onto the towel and wrapping them up. She passes Aurore in the doorway, not meeting Aurore’s horrified gaze. 

She puts the bundle down on the desk. She sees no point in putting them anywhere safe, they’re already ruined beyond repair. No one can make them any worse. Then she turns around and passes Aurore again, draining the bathtub and pulling her hair up into a bun. Her bobby pins bite into her scalp, but she continues to shove them in.

“Do you have another pair?” Aurore asks. She has her arms crossed and is leaning against the doorframe. They both already know the answer to that question.

“I have my flats.” Marinette twists the hair net around her bun and pins back her bangs. 

“Any idea who did it?” Marinette isn’t sure why Aurore is even bothering to ask.

“No proof.” 

“Hm.” Aurore shrugs. “I wish I could help, but…”

She can’t. Or won’t. Marinette doesn’t know if Aurore could help her with the shoe problem, but Aurore won’t get involved. She’s self protective, she won’t let herself get caught in the crossfire. Marinette can’t blame her, she tried to stay out of it all as well, but look how spectacularly that turned out.

Aurore turns off the lights as Marinette leaves the bathroom. “Good luck.” Marinette turns to fully look at her for the first time. Aurore raises her eyebrows and gives her a small smirk. There’s sincerity in her eyes that is usually reserved for the few people Aurore is closest to.

Marinette takes a shaky breath. “Thank you.” She’s going to need it.

—«·»— 

Tikki’s back is to her when she enters the studio and says hello. She feels naked in just flats, but it’s the best she can do until… She can…catch a train home before dinner? And then get money, stay a night in her own bed, buy shoes as soon as a store opens, and take the train home. She’ll miss at least part of a day. One day two weeks before the showca— No it’ll be fine. It’ll work. She just needs to borrow money from her parents. She’ll work free time in the bakery when she gets back. It’s not the best plan, but it’s a plan.

“Let’s run it once and see how it goes. I wanted to change a few of the arm positions…” Tikki trails off as she turns around and sees Marinette wearing flats. “Where are your pointe shoes?”

Marinette’s mind goes blank. “I… They’re— My room.”

Tikki frowns, but there’s something else in her expression that Marinette doesn’t know how to explain. “Why didn’t you bring them?” 

“I…” Marinette shakes her head.

“Do you want to go get them?” The suspicion in Tikki’s voice makes Marinette feel nauseous.

“The shanks are broken.” She swallows the lump in her throat.

“On…all of them?” Marinette can barely nod. “Even your performance pair?” She nods again. Tikki gives her a once over. “Why don’t you go get them and I’ll see if they’re salvageable. Sometimes there’s a chance.”

“They—” Marinette takes a shaky breath. “They got…wet. The glue holding them together—” She cuts herself off before her voice can give out. 

Tikki nods slowly. “How did your shoes get wet?”

Marinette can tell that Tikki already has an idea of what happened. She’s better off just telling her exactly how she found her shoes, everything she suspects, everything that’s happened in the past few weeks. She finds herself lying. “I must’ve left them in the bathtub. I…must not have been thinking.”

“I see.”

Tikki turns back towards the stereo and Marinette squeezes her eyes shut. She forces herself to take measured breaths as she tries to rationalize what just happened. But Chloé— Marinette had never lied to Alya when she said that Chloé could easily destroy her. Chloé didn’t seem to care about the consequences. And that was a problem. Because she’d never care if Marinette retaliated. She’d just strike back. Harder, faster. Relentlessly, again and again.

It’s so _unfair_ and there’s nothing Marinette can do about it.

“Are you _sure_ you were the one who left _all_ of your shoes in the tub?” Tikki asks.

Marinette opens her eyes. “No.” It feels like both a relief and another weight on her chest.

“Have you been having problems with anyone in your room?”

Marinette clenches her jaw. Her silence answers the question for her. 

Tikki raises her eyebrows. “I have the room assignments, Marinette. All it takes is finding one document on the computer and asking a few other dancers how everyone’s been getting along.” She gives Marinette such a soft and gentle look with almost pleading eyes.

It hurts. Marinette wants to tell her. She wants help. But she doesn’t want Tikki to face Chloé’s wrath— She makes a split second decision and it’s anxiety inducing but Alya is right. She needs to tell _someone_ who can try and do _something_. “C-Chloé and I…don’t get along great.”

She can tell from Tikki’s expression that she wants to ask more, but Tikki just hums and sends a message on her phone. “Do you have a plan for getting new shoes?”

“Yes.” Marinette answers too fast and Tikki gives her a concerned look. The plan comes out in a whirlwind of words. “I don’t have enough money so I’ll take the train home tonight and get money from my parents and get shoes tomorrow and get on the first train after that but I live a few hours away and so I’d have to miss part of tomorrow’s rehearsal but I’d have shoes and I can make up the rehearsals somehow, I swear.”

Tikki mulls it over for a moment. Her phone dings and she turns her attention to it, giving Marinette another moment to pull herself together. Tikki looks back to her with a secretive smile and pockets her phone. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Marinette asks as she follows Tikki out of the studio.

“Out,” Tikki says simply. “We’ll be out for a bit, so grab anything you might need.”

Marinette’s grasps at the edges of whatever Tikki’s plan is as she pulls on sweats and shoes. She grabs her phone as she debates options, following Tikki outside to a waiting cab. She remembers Nino saying that cabs in Paris weren’t worth it. Alya had groaned and complained about walking.

“Where are we going again?” she asks again once they’re in the cab.

Tikki smiles and sits back in the seat. “We’re going to get you some new shoes.”

“W-what?!” 

She shrugs. “You could go get them tomorrow, yes. But this is easier and we have time now.”

“I-it’s Sunday,” Marinette stammers. “Is anywhere even open?” 

Tikki nods. “One of my friends runs the shoe room for my company. He’s opening up now and said he’ll be ready when we get there.” 

“If…if she found out you helped—”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Tikki asks. She shakes her head. “Marinette, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” 

Marinette can’t find it in herself to believe her and it must show on her face.

Tikki gives her a gentle smile. “What could happen? I lose my job? Alright. I have plenty of friends in the industry who will still hire me regardless of what one teenage girl and her politician father say. And the dances I leave here? They’re nearly as good as they’re going to get.” She takes Marinette’s hands and squeezes them. “Even if they weren’t, a few underprepared dances won’t damage my career too badly. But yours— Marinette, your career hasn’t even begun yet.”

“Are you sure?” Marinette finds herself asking.

Tikki gives her hands another gentle squeeze. “Positive.”

When she lets go of Marinette’s hands, Marinette immediately starts fiddling with her fingers. She tries not to bite on her nails, but it’s an old habit and old habits die hard. 

The cab pulls up and it’s almost overwhelming how _normal_ the building looks. There’s nothing special about it, nothing that makes it stand out from any of the other buildings on the street. It’s perfectly normal and Marinette isn’t sure why it would be anything other than normal. She’s not sure why she assumed it’d be something… _different._ She gets out of the cab as Tikki pays.

Marinette wraps her arms around herself and stares at the door. Like it’ll give her answers or direction or something. But it won’t. Because it’s just a door.  

“Come on,” Tikki says, motioning for Marinette to follow. She opens the door.

Marinette lets the door swing closed behind her, taking in the atmosphere of the shoe room. She’s only ever bought her pointe shoes from the dance store in her town, she’s at a bit of a loss of what to do with walls filled with countless pairs of pointe shoes and flats alike. She doesn’t even know where to begin. She glances to Tikki helplessly.

“Wayzz?” she calls out.

A man pops out from behind a shelf. “Tikki!” He looks a little frazzled, like he isn’t sure what to do with this many shoes either. He can’t be that much older than Tikki, and skids to a stop after running out into the main room. He smiles at Tikki for a moment before she steps forward and hugs him tight. Wayzz immediately hugs back, smiling brightly at Marinette. 

Marinette returns a much more nervous smile. She’s trying not to think about how many pointe shoes are in here, because the thought of trying to figure out which shoes would work for her is making her lightheaded and anxious. 

“Thank you,” Tikki says when she pulls away from the hug. “It means the world.”

“Anything for you,” Wayzz promises. “What are friends for?”

“Usually not opening the shoe room on a Sunday so I can snag a pair or two.” 

Wayzz shrugs. “There are plenty of extra shoes for the apprentices. And I hear this is an emergency.” He turns to Marinette. “Do you know your normal shoe size?”

Marinette tells it to him, she’d been repeating it over and over again mentally so she wouldn’t mess it up, and Wayzz adjusts his glasses. Tikki sits down in a chair, and Wayzz gets to work. 

Any of the frazzle and jumpiness Marinette originally saw in him is gone. There’s a look of serious concentration on his face as he moves from shelf to shelf. He seems to know this shoe room like the back of his hand, moving about in no particular way. The most Marinette has been able to figure out is that each cubbie holds shoes for a specific company dancer. Wayzz seems to know which dancer each cubbie hole belongs to and their shoe size off the top of his head. He only pauses to inspect shoes a few times, mostly wandering with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they want and how to get it. 

With a small pile of shoes, he instructs Marinette to sit down on the chair next to Tikki. She pulls off her shoes and rolls down her tights over the toe pads Wayzz handed her. She pulls on a pair of pointe shoes and lets Wayzz move her feet, bending them in different directions, going up on pointe and demi pointe when told. She answers any questions about comfort that he has honestly, but he doesn’t ask many. He just seems to know. 

Wayzz makes some sort of decision about the shoes and has her take them off and sit down. He puts some of the shoes to the side and hands her another pair. The repetition of the whole process — putting on shoes, standing in different positions, feeling Wayzz pull and prod at the material around her feet — is strangely calming. Marinette is almost sad when they reach the last pair in the pile.

But when she puts on the shoes and goes up on pointe, any trace sadness is gone.

Until this exact moment, she never realized how poorly her shoes actually fit. These shoes are the most custom, quality pointe shoes she’s ever owned, and she can feel it. They feel more like they were made for her feet and less like she forced them to mold to her feet.

Wayzz smiles up at her. “These are it, aren’t they?” 

Marinette nods wordlessly. She knows he can tell from the way the shoe fits her foot, how it moves with her, but there’s still something sort of…magical about it. Something that makes her choke up a little.

Marinette looks to Tikki who is grinning widely. “We’ll take two pairs,” Tikki says with a wink.

—«·»—

Tikki sits down on the floor next to Marinette, dropping her bag in front of them. “The good thing about you having two new pairs of shoes to prepare, is that I can do one and you can do the other.” She smiles as she starts pulling things from her bag. 

Marinette blinks as Tikki pulls out an exacto knife. She knew more professional pointe dancers prepared her shoes, but she’d always just sort of sewn on the ribbons and elastics and called it a day.

Tikki lets Marinette explain how she usually ‘prepared’ her shoes. “You’ll learn little tricks,” Tikki says, unrolling the elastic. “You learn them from older dancers who are willing to disclose their secrets.” She smiles at Marinette. 

Tikki shoes Marinette how she softens the box of the shoe by stepping on it and bending it with her hands, hitting the edges of it against the floor so they aren’t so hard and noisy. They take the exacto knife to the bottom of the shoes, smoothing the sides of the sole so there’s not so much of a level change and scratching it to add traction. Tikki carefully bends the shank each way to make it easier to arch. Marinette lets her do that one by herself, she doesn’t want to be breaking any shanks today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today. They mark up the shoes for the placement of the elastics and ribbons, and then measure and cut them both. They use a lighter to melt the very edge of the cut ribbons to keep them from fraying.

They sit cross legged as they sew, Tikki carrying most of the soft conversation by herself. Marinette can tell that Tikki is sewing slowly for her sake. Marinette sews a lot, but it feels different when she’s preparing her shoes. Like every stitch is important and she needs to be extra careful. 

“I’ll pay you back,” Marinette promises as Tikki wraps the pair of shoes she was sewing in their ribbons and puts them back in their cloth bag. “I can ask my parents to bring money to the showcase and give it to you then.”

Tikki shakes her head. “That won’t be necessary. These shoes are a gift, from me to you.” 

“B-but—”

“It’s two pairs of pointe shoes.” Tikki takes Marinette’s hands in hers and smiles. “It’s not much.”

“It’s _too much_ ,” Marinette insists.

“No, it’s not.” There’s a knock at the door. For once, Plagg doesn’t barge right in. Tikki leans forward and kisses Marinette’s forehead. “Try them out for a few minutes and then go back to yours or Adrien’s room and get some rest. You can leave your shoes under the desk if you’d like. No one will touch them”

“I can do rehearsal,” Marinette protests. “I need to break them in!”

“It’ll be good to practice dancing in fairly new shoes.” Tikki smiles. “It’s really not that bad. I actually prefer it. You know your shoes won’t die on you mid-turn.”

“But rehearsal—”

“Can wait,” Tikki says firmly. She stands up and goes to open the door. “Adrien, work on whatever you want to, Plagg and I need to have a chat.”

Marinette sees Plagg’s expression harden as Tikki takes his hand and drags him away. 

Adrien watches them leave and hesitates before closing the door. “Is everything alright?” he asks, motioning in the direction they’d gone.  

“I—” Marinette shrugs and ignores him. With Tikki and her light and gentle personality gone, everything is weighing down on her again. A lump builds up in her throat and all the emotion she’s been holding back all day — when she first saw her ruined shoes, when she was talking with Aurore, when she was with Wayzz, when Tikki was teaching her her secrets — bubbles to the surface.

Adrien sits down next to her and she keeps ignoring him as she pulls on her shoes. Whatever she felt back in the shoe room is long gone. She doesn’t know why she thought they were the most perfect fit she’s ever had. They feel hard and _wrong_. They fit well but they don’t fit _right_ . They fit her feet but they don’t fit _to them_. They aren’t _her shoes_. She chews on her lip as she tries to tie the ribbons. She’s fine until she goes to tie the knot. It keeps slipping from her fingers and she should be able to do something so _basic_ and _simple_. It’s just tying a ribbon and she _can’t—_  

“Marinette?” Adrien asks softly. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Marinette chokes back a sob. She hadn’t even noticed frustrated tears welling up in her eyes, they’re suddenly just _there_ and in the way. “I-I can’t—” She scrubs away the tears. “The…the ribbons keep tangling and I _can’t_ —” She presses her forehead against her knee and tries to hold back at least some of her sobs because she’s supposed to be stronger than this and not feel like this and she _hates it_.

“Here,” he murmurs, “let me help.”

She keeps her head down on her knee as he ties her shoes with ease. She wants to be jealous or annoyed or _something_ but everything aches and hurts and she feels like a dam that’s an inch away from bursting. He tucks the ends of the ribbons on the inside of her ankle with nimble fingers and moves to her other shoe. Tears roll steadily down her cheeks and nothing she does or thinks is stopping them.

And then Adrien’s arms are wrapped around her in a tight hug, and she loses her grip on whatever tiny shred of calm she’d been holding onto. She presses her face into the crook of his neck as she sobs. She’s shaking and can’t control her sobs. They shudder and they crack and she hates them. Everything right now is so harsh and jaggedy and gray. It’s swallowing her and eating her alive. She balls up the fabric of Adrien’s shirt in her fist as her cries tremble.

Not _everything_ is too sharp right now. The fabric in her hand is soft and stretchy and Adrien is gentle and is murmuring assurances in her ear. She catches a “you’re going to be okay, I’ve got you, Mari” and feel she feels her heart clench. She holds onto him a little bit tighter, this kindness, this caring, this love that feels so impossible right now.

And she knows that it’s not like the whole world is against her. But in a large empty studio with shoes that don’t fit right, Adrien is the only thing that is safe and warm right now. With his gentle words and kisses that he’s pressed to her hair.

She feels him shift and clenches his shirt in her fist. She can’t move, not yet. The tears haven’t subsided and she doesn’t know when they will, she just knows that right this second she _can’t move_.

And then Adrien is pressing something to her ear and she hears a soft, “ _Mar?_ ”

One of her hands flies up to grab the phone, pressing it harder against her ear, desperate to be closer to Alya. Marinette covers her mouth with her other hand to try and stifle the sobs.

“ _Mari, love, what’s wrong? What happened?_ ”

Marinette shakes her head. “I— It’s…” She chokes out a sob. Not now. She can’t explain this right now. She doesn’t have to. It’s Alya, she never has to explain anything.

“ _I’m right here_ ,” Alya promises. “ _And Adrien’s right there with you, right, girl? Just breathe, I promise whatever is wrong will get better. We can fix it. And if we can’t, we’re going to be right here with you. So keep breathing, Mar. Keep breathing with me, it’ll all be okay._ ”

Alya continues to coo in Marinette’s ear as Adrien holds her close and rubs circles on her back, and as Marinette finally feels her breathing leveling out and her heartbeat normalizing, all she can think is that she doesn’t deserve them in her life.

—«·»— 

Adrien holds Marinette hand as she rolls up to pointe. “How do they feel?” he asks.

Marinette makes a face. “S-stiff.” She still feels shaky and out of it, but she feels strong enough to try now. She has to try. If she doesn’t get up and keep moving, the world will pass her by. 

“You’ll be fine by tomorrow,” he promises. “Or…Tuesday? You don’t have pointe tomorrow, do you?”

“All flat technique,” she says with a grimace. It’s nice to have a day off her toes, but technique is _boring_. Necessary, but boring.

“They’ll feel natural in the blink of an eye,” Adrien insists.

Marinette carefully pulls her hand away from his and bourrées a few feet away. She does a careful pirouette. Her shoes still feel weird, but it’s new shoe stiffness weird, not whatever she’d been feeling earlier. She does a few more turns and tries her hand at a short combination from the other day.

“Good?” Adrien asks.

Marinette takes a long look at her reflection in the mirror. Her expression is too long, her shoes are too shiny. Her eyes look hollow and the shoes are unnaturally clean. She finds Adrien’s eyes in the mirror and takes a deep breath. “I’m good.”

She lets him shut down everything in the studio as she gathers up her things. She carefully wraps her shoes in the ribbon and slides them into their bag. Adrien shuts the light off and closes the door as they leave.

Adrien pulls on his sweats and shoes, scrolling through notifications on his phone. Marinette slides on her shoes and tugs out the clips holding back her bangs. She finds solace in having them down, even if it means she’s hiding behind them because they’re a little too long. She thinks she’s allowed to hide today. She stores her two pairs of pointe shoes under the desk. She feels a little anxious about it and glances back at the desk as her and Adrien leave, but no one but her, Tikki, and Adrien know they’re there.

It’ll be okay.

Her hand finds Adrien’s without much thought, tangling their fingers together as they walk down the street towards Starbucks. They hadn’t actually discussed it, but Nino was’t wrong, they really did only go to three places.

The thing about Starbucks is as much as the people may change, very little about the rest of it does. The tables are the same, the light is the same, the soft chatter is the same, the strong smell of coffee is the same. It’s warm and cozy, and almost a little bit too small, but it’s familiar. Adrien orders for the both of them — “a venti strawberry acai for Adrien and a venti hot chocolate for Mari, M-A-R-I” — as she rocks back and forth on her heels.

It’s easier to stop fidgeting once she has a hot drink in her hands.

When they’re about halfway done with their drinks, they get up from their usual table and start making their way back to their room. Their hands find each other again, but Marinette doesn’t mind. Holding Adrien’s hand is grounding, and she needs that right now. 

Adrien doesn’t ask questions, he just says, “See you in like half an hour?” when they reach his room. 

Marinette nods and waves to him as she continues onto her room. She doesn’t know when they developed this ability to communicate without really talking. It happened somewhere along the way and she doesn’t know where.

She’s relieved to find the room empty. She doesn’t let herself look over to the desk, she just showers quickly and changes into pajamas. She grabs dance clothes and sweats for tomorrow, a handful of hair supplies, her phone, and her laptop. She sweeps her gaze around most of the room before she leaves it. She leaves a note on the bed:

 _Going to see a friend -Marinette_  

—«·»— 

Adrien opens the door with glasses and a smile. Marinette piles her stuff on the bed she usually takes as Adrien moves his laptop off his own. Maybe they’ll use them later when she feels more alive and less hollow. Maybe when she’s feeling something other than emptiness, talking to Alya and Nino will make her smile. Right now, she’s focusing on feeling something again.

She’s _drained_. She’s so _drained_.

Adrien turns on the TV. She’s not sure how he figured out how to get movies on it, she’s always struggled with that. She doesn’t really focus on what he’s choosing. She doesn’t care as long as it’s gentle. She catches the Disney logo as she settles down on the bed next to Adrien and figures it’ll be fine.

Marinette curls against Adrien as he wraps his arms around her. She focuses more on his breathing and his heartbeat then whatever they’re watching. She rests her cheek against his chest and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

After a little while, she’s okay enough to tilt her head to watch the screen. She smiles and relaxes more into Adrien’s arms as she watches gold fabric swirl across the screen. She doesn’t know what time it is, but sleep is calling her and reaching its wisps out to her.

Marinette isn’t okay right now. But she’s getting there. She’ll be okay later. She has Tikki and she has Plagg. She has Nino and she has Alya, as she’s had for years. She has Adrien.

No, she’s not okay. She’s angry, and she’s hurt. She’s a mess of emotions that she can’t understand, and it’s created this gaping void in her. But she will be okay. She’ll get there, and she has people to help her along her way. 

She will get there. And for now, that’s all the hope she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you like the Twilight movies
> 
> (So much of this chapter is filler I'm so sorry)
> 
> Right so a few people compared this fic to a Disney channel movie a while back and you were actually more right than you thought? This was 100% unintentional but I was thinking about it the other day and this fic sort of follows the setup of a Disney channel original, or at least a lot of their musical movies. Everything is fine and dandy and they're just at the end and the antagonist does something to try and stop the protagonists one last time. Sharpay and Ryan moving callbacks, Sharpay changing the rules so employees aren't allowed to be in the talent show, Tess claiming Mitchie and Caitlyn stole her charm bracelet, the principal getting rid of the vending machine in Lemonade Mouth... You see this pattern, right? I'm calling it the Last Ditch Sabotage because I couldn't find a name for it on TV tropes. 
> 
> Annddd that just proves to you all that I watch too many Disney channel movies. Anyway...........
> 
> I REALLY struggled with Marinette's characterization in this chapter? We've never really seen her completely break down so to have it happen TWICE felt like a bit of a stretch? But I figure those are legit reasons to break down and she's under a lot of stress.... So I hope it's not that bad. I don't know how to write Tikki or Wayzz so I'm sorry about that. Also, I have so many mixed feeling about Chloé ruining Marinette's shoes. It's in character, but anyone who knows me / has read my other fics knows that I tend to push for Chloé redemption soooooooo yeah look at those if you're upset about Chloé being the "villain" of this as I know at least a few of you are
> 
> For people confused about the 'shank' of the pointe shoe, here's an image: http://pascb.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/Tips-for-Buying-Pointe-Shoes.jpg  
> The shank can be bent and it can still be saved if broken a bit, a lot of dancers will actually bend/break/cut part of the shank to make it easier to move and arch, but what Chloé did is break the shank so it can't really be saved and the shoe can't be used.
> 
> Also?? Pointe shoes???? I've bought one pair I totally do not remember how that works. I did try my best, considering that Wayzz isn't just some random dance store like where I went for pointe shoes but works in the shoe room for a ballet company. From what I saw in videos, it appears that apprentices for the companies (there's a year of apprenticeship before you can become a company member in quite a few videos I saw) used other people's shoes in their sizes. And so I just _assume_ they've got extra extra pairs. Does that mean Tikki could've waltzed in, pulled a few strings, and taken whatever pair fit Marinette best? ....probably not. But this is fanfiction, so...suspension of disbelief? (Please go with that)
> 
> And when Tikki and Marinette are breaking in her shoes, I have videos for that too! Every dancer breaks in their shoes differently, soooo yeah I took some liberties and smashed stuff together. (and I researched how to ruin pointe shoes whoops) All the videos are on that Tangled Ribbons mess of a playlist I keep linking to but here are a few that I kept watching until I felt I kind of got it:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqT0JsFBwc4&list=PLhDNezxilJS7Bdh_FSnUEuG3-9IlEz4iY&index=64  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NM6tgvB9aCA&index=67&list=PLhDNezxilJS7Bdh_FSnUEuG3-9Il  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XwmwsGT8IQ4
> 
> And this one is just cool: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tB6xdSB0VyQ&index=36&list=PLhDNezxilJS7Bdh_FSnUEuG3-9IlEz4iY
> 
> (For reference, pointe shoes can cost from 70-100 USD a pair, according the internet.)
> 
> Sidenote: in Tangled Ribbons, Marinette only has three pairs of pointe shoes and a performance pair that's broken in but she doesn't rehearse in. In reality, company dancers go through a pair of shoes a week. Also, pointe dancers often have multiple pairs of pointe shoes in use at a time, from the videos I've seen it could be from four to eight pairs at a time. Of course, they're often doing up to eight hours en pointe a day, and the kids at the intensive are doing less than that. They have not only shorter hours (probably closer to six hour days on their longest if they don't give themselves extra rehearsal time glares at Adrien and Mari) but they also do a lot of flat work too. Even then, Marinette should probably have more shoes but shhhh I didn't want to make it seem like an absurd amount of shoes and have to explain. .....like I'm doing now. Oops
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://sadrien.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) if you want to bug me about updating!


	12. grand allegro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, thank you so so so SO much for the response to the last chapter! it was....incredible. honestly. i was just blown away. thank you for being patient and being understanding, and thank you for the people on tumblr who put up with all my teasing
> 
> i have more (so much more) i'll say next time, but i don't know when that'll be. i'm working on a lot of college stuff and original things for my portfolio, as well as a big bang for another fandom and a collab fic. but i promise i'm always slowly working on this stuff. 
> 
> also??? [brick walls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5889310) is on page 3 of the ml tag when sorted by kudos???? thank you so much omg 
> 
> this chapter isn't necessarily the most interesting and it's less than half the length of ch11, but i still hope you enjoy!

Marinette has her arms around Adrien’s waist when he wakes up. She’s already awake, her head resting on his chest and vacant eyes staring at the wall. 

“Morning,” he murmurs, brushing her bangs away from her eyes. 

She gives him a small smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hi.” 

“What time is it?” He regrets asking when she pulls away to check her phone.

She frowns at her phone. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing,” she says quickly. “It’s only five, but we fell asleep early.” She swings her feet over the bed, motioning to the bathroom. “I’m going to—” She lifts her phone. 

Adrien nods and reaches for his glasses. “I’ll be here.” 

It takes him a few minutes to get up once she leaves. He can hear her muffled voice through the walls. He doesn’t know who or what she’s talking about, but he hopes it’s Alya. 

He slides on his glasses and scrolls through the notifications on his phone. He shoots a quick update to Nathalie, usually he would’ve done it last night but he was asleep and she’s probably been lowkey panicking since then, before tackling the texts. 

Nino only sent a few, but Alya didn’t hold back. At all. 

**From: undeniably better than nino  
** **To: the densest marshmallow in the world  
**      is mari ok? do you know what happened??  
     shes not answering my texts or calls  
     im getting worried   
     adrien   
     hello??????  
      godDAMMIT ARE NEITHER OF U GOING TO PICK UP   
      ugh  
     ok so the answer is obviously no  
      just  
      im freaking out a little here adrien   
      and by a little i mean a LOT  
      i really really hope ur with her  
      like…  
      oh ym god i cant do this  
      ok im calling nino  
      please call  
      in the morning  
      ill tell mari to too but like  
     please tell me ur not dead   
      sooner rather than later  
      thatd definitely be ideal  
      ok  
      ok bye  
      please call  
      soon  
      please

Adrien glances over to the bathroom door. Almost definitely Alya. He’ll wait for Marinette to get off the phone with her before calling, if she still wants to talk. But he sends her a response anyway. 

**From: the densest marshmallow in the world  
** **To: undoubtedly better than nino  
**        We aren’t dead.  
      I’m really sorry I didn’t respond. Mari and I were watching movies and fell asleep really early. I should’ve been checking my phone.   
      I’m pretty sure you’re talking with Mari right now, but I can still call you later if you’d like  
      And I have no idea what happened, just that Tikki had to get her new shoes  
      But it was something bad  
      I’m worried too so just  
      Let me know? 

Nino’s texts are a little less frantic — Nino is a less energetic and more relaxed person than Alya in general — and there’s also significantly less of them. 

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**        yo dude what happened?   
      im skyping with alya right now and shes freaking out  
      something about you calling her and mari crying??  
      ok shes a little calmer now but were still worried since neither of you are responding  
      youre probably either asleep or in the studio so you know  
      hmu when youre done? 

**From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**        We fell asleep yeah  
      Thanks for talking to Alya, I completely forgot to check my phone  
      I think Mari is on the phone with her right now, but I’m not sure what they’re talking about?  
      I’ll explain the best I can when I know more  
      If Alya doesn’t tell you first, that is. I’m guessing she told you everything she knows about yesterday already 

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      yeah she told me everything she knew  
     no prob man i did all i could  
     which wasnt much but i tried

**From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
     ** That’s all that really matters though, right??

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**        i guess  
      ok i know youre superhuman but ive got the morning off so im going back to bed  
      i just had my phone on really loud in case al needed me  
      see you when youre done with rehearsal my bro

**From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
     ** See you then

Adrien grabs headphones and puts on the first album that he sees. Then he flops back onto his pillow. He studies the tiny bumps on the ceiling to keep himself from worrying too much. Because if he doesn’t distract himself, all he’ll do is worry. 

The dots are starting to blur together and he think he might be half asleep when Marinette comes back from the bathroom. 

He sits up with a start when the door opens. Marinette’s eyes are red and puffy, and she’s holding her phone tightly. He yanks out his headphones. “You okay?” 

She stares at him for a moment before her lip starts to tremble. She opens her arms. 

Adrien crosses the room in a few long steps and wraps her up in a tight hug. Marinette presses her face into his chest, wetting her shirt with tears. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

—«·»—

Adrien holds Marinette’s hot chocolate as she pulls off her sweats. He puts the cup in her cubby as she tugs down her tights. He hands her her flats before joining her on the floor with his own flats tucked under his arm. 

“Ready for class?” he asks softly. 

Marinette sighs and leans against his arm. “I’m way too tired for this,” she mumbles. “I’m going to die.”

“I’ll die with you,” he promises. He puts on his flats before reaching up to grab her hot chocolate. “Here.”

She takes the cup with a small smile, downing the rest of her drink as people start to file into classes. She shakes the cup back and forth a few times before tossing it across the room towards the trash. It bounces off the wall and hits the edge of the trash can before falling in. She holds out a fist. 

Adrien fist bumps it. “Nice.” 

Marinette only moves to get up when everyone is out of the lobby and in a studio. “Let’s go,” she says with a sigh. She stands up and pulls Adrien to her feet. 

She tenses when she turns to the doorway. Chloé is standing there. 

Adrien shifts a little closer to Marinette.  It’s more of a subconscious action than a conscious one. He still has no clue what’s going on between them, he’s never known. There’s always been some sort of unspoken tension between Marinette and Chloé, whether or not it has something to do with the fact that they’re roommates, he’s not sure. He just tries his best to keep them from being at each other’s throats. 

Marinette takes a deep breath and walks up to the door. 

Chloé crosses her arms. 

Marinette’s shoulders slump for half a second before she stands tall again. “Chloé, please move.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chloé snaps. 

“Trying to get to class, could you please move?”

“You know what I mean,” Chloé hisses. 

“I really don’t,” Marinette says. “Please let me by.” There’s exhaustion in her voice. Her shoulders are beginning to slump again and she’s starting to cave in on herself. 

Adrien hates it. And Chloé doesn’t seem interested in moving. “Just let her go, Chloé,” he says. “We all need to get to class anyway.”

Chloé glares at Marinette. 

Adrien sighs and walks up to the doorway. He takes Chloé’s arm as gently as he can and pulls her out of the way. Marinette passes by them, pointedly not looking at Chloé. She greets Rose and Nathanael with a forced and exhausted smile. 

Chloé yanks her arm away from Adrien. She glares at him before storming into the room, Sabrina sliding her hand back on the barre to let her have space. 

Adrien feels like she’s turned his soul to ice. He’s never been on the receiving end of one of her glares. He finally understands why people are genuinely scared of Chloé Bourgeois. It’s not just her political power or social power. It’s the pure power of her death glares. 

He doesn’t think he likes being on Chloé’s bad side. 

—«·»—  


Adrien leans against the wall of the building as he presses call. Alya had sent him a text, only one, telling him to call her. And that was a little suspicious to say the least. 

“ _ Hello? _ ” 

“Hey, Al. You wanted to talk?” 

He hears Alya take a deep breath, as if she’s trying to calm herself. “Uh… Alya?” 

“ _ Shut up for a second, I was doing something else and don’t have my thoughts ready. _ ” 

“Oh…okay?” He frowns and taps his fingers on the wall as she does some more deep breathing. 

“ _ Okay. Right. _ ” She exhales heavily. “ _ I know, you’re like— You’re a good guy, Adrien. Like a genuinely good guy. Like… I’m actually  _ shocked _ that you’re as good of a guy as you are. That…doesn’t happen in real life. And I know you really like Marinette because— I’ve seen you talk about her! I’ve heard you talk about her! It’s disgusting! _ ” 

Adrien shakes his head. “Alya, where are you going with this?”  __

“ _ Look, marshmallow, Marinette deserves better than some guy who won’t stand up to a bully— _ ” 

“What?!” Adrien pushes away from the wall. “What are you talking about?” 

“ _ I’m talking about— _ ” Alya cuts herself off. 

He starts to walk away from the studio as he waits for Alya to continue. He can’t just  _ stand here _ . He needs to move. “Alya, what is going on.” 

“ _ You don’t know, _ ” she says softly. She swears under her breath. 

Anxiety begins to build up in his chest. He grips his phone a little bit tighter. “What don’t I know?” he demands. 

“ _ I’m so sorry _ ,” Alya says quickly. “ _ I thought— No I didn’t think. I didn’t think and that’s the problem! I’m so— _ ”

“Alya,” he interrupts. “ _ Please _ .”    
  
She sights. “ _ I can’t, Adrien. I can’t be the one to— You’ll put it together. I know you will, you’re smart. Smarter than most of us. _ ”

“Clearly I’m _not_ , because I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he counters. 

“ _ You will _ ,” she says firmly. “ _ And if you don’t figure it out by the end of the day… Ask Mari. But try, okay? _ ” 

_ Mari _ . 

His heart leaps to his throat. “Does this have to do with her shoes?” Adrien asks. “Alya, come on. You can tell me.”

He can almost imagine her shaking her head. “ _ It’s really not my place to tell. Just get through today. All that profound stuff. I love you, I’ll talk to you later. _ ” She hangs up before he can protest. 

Adrien stares at the ‘call ended’ screen. He resists the urge to slam his phone on the ground and crush it under his shoe. 

**From: the densest marshmallow in the world  
** **To: undeniably better than nino  
**      Alya  
     Alya what was that  
     What is going on  
     And why can’t you tell me? 

He groans and buries his face in hands when ‘Read at 12:53 PM’ stays that way. She’s not going to respond. He texts Nino next, but Alya’s got Nino in her grip and Adrien highly doubts he’ll get anything out of this. 

**From: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      Have you talked to al??  
     I just talked to her and it was really weird  
     She said there was something she couldn’t tell me  
     I think it has something to do with mari

Adrien turns back to the studio when Nino responds. He should eat — all he’s had since breakfast was a granola bar between classes — but he needs to dance off this anxiety before he screams. Alya said to wait until the end of the day. To try and figure it out himself. 

He doesn’t know how to. He just wants to  _ help _ . He just wants to  _ help Marinette _ . 

He throws his phone on top of his bag as he pulls up his tights over his feet. He left the screen unlocked, but he can’t bring himself to care. If it dies, it dies. He turns away from it and Nino’s texts, dancing to the rhythm in his mind as he moves to the center of the floor. 

**From: sick beats bro ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
** **To: my dancy dude ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎  
**      sorry dude  
     i have no idea whats shes talking about  
     im sure itll all be fine

—«·»—  


The problem with Mondays — aside from the fact that they’re Mondays — is the fact that they’re only technique classes. Technique does nothing to help Adrien blow off steam. 

There’s a lot of steam. 

He spends most of his days in the studio as is, but he mentally prepares himself to spend most of the  _ night _ in the studio during the last class. Marinette will get mad at him and try to drag him out, but he’s too tense and worried to go home. He’s too worried about her. And he doesn’t know how she’d feel about him worrying so much about her and it’s just this endless cycle of  _ worry _ . 

He sits in the lobby as it empties out after the last class of the day. He has a granola bar, Marinette somehow dumped an entire box in his bag without him noticing, and that is going to have to hold him over for a few hours. 

Adrien almost wishes he could pinpoint the exact moment where so many of his thoughts became devoted to Marinette. The way she smiles, the way she laughs, the way she rolls her eyes. If she’s happy, if she’s sad, if she’s stressed. Dance is the only thing he’s been nearly as devoted to as he is to Marinette. When he stopped just liking her. When he stopped questioning if he was in love with her. When he looked at her, and just  _ knew _ . 

He grabs her hand as she walks by him, squeezing it once before letting her go. Marinette smiles back at him. She looks a little bit happier and at ease than she did early. That lessens the tightness in his chest a little bit.

Adrien doesn’t get up until basically everyone’s gone. He shoves everything into his bag except his phone and heads to his studio. He freezes in the doorway. 

In the next studio over, he can hear muffled voices. Muffled because the door is only open a crack, but they sound angry. Like they’re on the verge of yelling. 

Adrien recognizes Chloé’s voice with a start. 

“Come _ on _ ,” she pouts. “She can’t do it!” 

“She absolutely can,” Tikki says. She’s calm, but only barely. Adrien can tell she’s barely holding on to her calm appearance. “If she were unable to, she wouldn’t have been given the positions she was.” 

“She doesn’t have  _ shoes _ ,” Chloé snaps. Adrien’s insides turn to ice. “How can she dance without—” 

“Miss Bourgeois.” 

“—shoes! She can’t. That’s the answer. She has no pointe shoes and yet you’re going to let her keep her spot as principal?”

“Miss Bourgeois—” 

“That is just bad directing on  _ your part _ . And her duet! Adrien needs that duet, it’s a necessity. I mean come on, his  _ father _ said so are you  _ really  _ going to let her ruin that for him?” 

“If you would let me speak, Miss—” 

“Because if you don’t  _ do something _ she will. But it’s okay, because  _ I _ have a plan. Give me a few hours in the studio and I’ll learn it. There, problem fixed! And for the production—” 

“ _ Chloé! _ ” Tikki snapped. Adrien can practically feel all the air being sucked out of the room. “I don’t want to hear this, Chloé. And I could have explained the situation _ much _ earlier if only you would listen. But unfortunately, it seems you haven’t improved on that since you were little.” 

Adrien takes a small step backward. 

“Excuse me?” Chloé hisses. 

“The situation was dealt with earlier,” Tikki says, already returning to her mask of calm, cool, collected, and pleasant. “Marinette has pointe shoes, and frankly, none of this is any of your business. Thank you for your concern.” 

“But—”

“ _ Thank you _ .” 

Adrien doesn’t have time to duck into his studio before Chloé is storming out. They both freeze, staring at each other like they’re complete strangers. 

That hurts more than he expected it to. 

“Adrien!” she chirps, plastering on a fake smile and sugary personality. “I didn’t know you were still here!” 

He glances at the door. “You…” 

“Ugh, nothing. Just a little argument.” She flicks her wrist. “I’m over it, Tikki… You know her.” 

Adrien shakes his head slowly. “You tried to get Marinette’s parts?” 

Chloé’s eyes go wide for half a second before she controls her mask again. “Not at  _ all _ ! I was just worried about her. And the dances. But they’ve…sorted it out.” There’s a hint of disgust in her voice. It makes Adrien feel sick. 

“What did you do?” he asks quietly. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Chloé says forcefully. 

“Were you the one who ruined Marinette’s shoes?” 

“I’m honestly hurt that you’d accuse me of that,” she snaps. “I thought you knew me better than that.” 

“I don’t think I do,” Adrien murmurs. “ _ You _ destroyed her shoes.” 

Chloé rolls her eyes. “Just because we’re roommates doesn’t mean anything. Sabrina could’ve done that just as easily as I could have. But I  _ didn’t _ .” 

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Of course I—” 

“No,” Adrien interrupts. “You wouldn’t blame Sabrina.” Chloé frowns. “You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that. Because Sabrina is your friend. And despite popular belief you do actually have some sort of heart. At least, I thought you did.” 

Chloé’s face falls. She grabs Adrien’s arm. “I  _ do _ . I didn’t—” 

“They why did you do that to Marinette?!” he snaps. 

“Why not!” she yells back. “Marinette doesn’t  _ deserve  _ this! She doesn’t deserve to be principal, she doesn’t deserve a solo, she doesn’t deserve this intensive—” Chloé digs her nails into his arm. “She doesn’t deserve that duet and she doesn’t deserve  _ you _ .”

Adrien thinks his heart stops beating. All of the energy, the tension, the everything, slips out of him. The only thing keeping his arm up is Chloe’s grip. “Me?” he asks softly. “This is about  _ me _ ?” 

“Of course it’s not about _ you _ ,” she sneers. She glares at him with wet eyes. “God how can you be so  _ conceited! _ ” 

Adrien yanks his arm away from her. 

“She’s just some  _ charity case  _ that everyone is acting like belongs here, but she doesn’t!” Chloé rips her hairnet off her bun. “She’s a small town, competitive dancer with almost no ballet background or foundation and a weak sense of technique. And somehow she’s convinced you all she’s some prodigy or something. She’s been handed everything on a silver platter with her pretty little scholarship.”

“Scholarship?” This is this first he’s heard of any scholarship. 

“ _ Yes _ .” Chloé reaches for his hand, but he steps away. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng is nothing more than the piece of paper that got her in here. She’s nothing like the rest of us.” 

“You’re right about that,” Adrien admits. Chloé’s eyes light up. “She’s more than us. Better than us. She deserves to be here more than we do. We threw some money to get in. She actually had to work for this. Are you sure  _ she’s _ the one being given a silver platter?” he asks coldly. 

Chloé stares at him. She looks surprised. Hurt. Adrien no longer knows how to feel. 

“I didn’t actually think you could be this cruel,” he admits. He forces a laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “I really wanted to think you were better than that. I guess not.” 

“Maybe you would’ve noticed if you payed attention to me,” she says under her breath. 

“What?” 

“Her shoes,” Chloé says bitterly. “It got your attention, didn’t it?” 

Adrien grits his teeth as guilt rushes through him. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault it’s not his fault. This is all on Chloé. He refuses to let her make him feel this way. “Not in the way you wanted.” 

“Any attention is better than none.” She says it so softly he almost doesn’t hear it. 

Adrien sighs and turns back towards his studio. “Chloé, I don’t know what you want from me. But I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want… I want the Chloé I used be best friends with.” He looks back at her over his shoulder. “But I don’t think she exists anymore.” 

Her eyes go wide. They’re filled with tears threatening to spill over. “Adrien—” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” 

Adrien doesn’t turn the lights in the studio on. He just closes the door and drops his bag on the ground and stands in the darkness. If he really tries he can bring himself back to his first ballet classes with Chloé. 

He sinks to the floor and leans against the wall. He can’t decide which is more painful. The memories or the present. 

—«·»—  


At some point, Adrien’s thoughts stopped making sense. They just swirl around in his head, creating more nonsense with each spin. He finds himself moving in the dark— he doesn’t think he can call it dancing. He has music playing softly from his phone, but he’s not moving to anything more than the underlying beat. 

Eventually, he just runs out of energy for this. 

He turns off the music and scoops up his bag. He still thinks he’ll end up back here for most of the night — he needs to dance through his emotions — but he needs a break for himself. 

There’s a light on in the studio next to him. Adrien watches from the window in the door. Marinette has her headphones in and her phone in hand, improv-ing to music he’s unable to hear. Whatever it is, it’s not the playlist that she’d played before. 

She moves with a fire and passion he doesn’t think he’s seen from her before, which he didn’t think was possible. He thought he’d seen her at her most passionate, but he was wrong. She’s thrown herself in completely, leaving her soul on the dance floor behind her. 

Her eyes are shut tightly as she whirls around the room. She whips from turns to leaps with large arm movements and wild footwork.

Adrien finds a name for this fire as she throws her head back and then launches herself into a twist that pulls her down to the ground. 

Anger. 

It’s anger and frustration and pent up rage and she’s dumping it into her dancing. It’s leaving her panting and breathless, but it’s getting it  _ out _ . 

Adrien can understand that. 

Marinette’s movements don’t say anger. He chalks up any sharpness and jerkiness to the song she’s dancing to. It’s in the furrow of her brow and the intense frown on her face. How she’s gripping her phone tightly in her hand. 

Adrien opens the door and flicks the lights off. If Marinette notices, she doesn’t show any indication that she does. The next time she moves his way, he grabs her hand and pulls her into closed position. 

Marinette’s eyes snap open and a small smile ghosts the corner of her mouth. She pulls out of Adrien’s grasp, yanking the headphones out of her phone and tossing them against the wall. He doesn’t recognize the song, but he knows from the beat that this is too far from ballet for him to be anywhere close to decent at it or comfortable with it. 

She grabs his hands and pulls him toward her. 

“I don’t know how to do dance like this,” he reminds her. 

Marinette smirks. “But you can follow, can’t you?” She spins them around, letting go of his hands to jump into footwork that she  _ has _ to have to done before. He doesn't even try to keep up with her. “Focus on the beat,” she says with a laugh when she notices him floundering. 

Adrien finds himself wondering how she hits poses that don’t look silly in any way while he feels like every limb is in the wrong place. She clearly knows this music, this style, a lot better than him. It’s all closer to jazz and hip hop than ballet. He could get by with contemporary and lyrical, even modern. But even jazz is a foreign language to him. 

Not only that, but Marinette clearly knows this music better than him. She manages to tell a story with her dancing that lines up with the lyrics. Adrien continues to flail. 

Whenever Marinette turns her attention to him it’s…easier? Where he stumbled with the beats, he finds his footing in the music. It’s easier to fall into the patterns and movements. It’s easier to dance with her than follow her. 

There are still too many body rolls for his comfort. Too much hip swinging. 

Marinette teases him about it with sparkling eyes, any frustration long gone. “Someone needs to work on their isolations,” she says, circling her rib cage. “Bet you can’t shimmy for the life of you.” 

Adrien laughs and ruffles his hair with a hand. “Not at  _ all _ .” 

At some point Marinette pulls her hair out of its bun, letting it fly around freely, flipping it out of her face every once in awhile. She’s pushed her leotard down to the waist of her sweatpants which are baggy around her hips. Leotard half off and in a spotted sport bra, disheveled, and out of breath, Adrien thinks this is probably the most comfortable he’s ever seen Marinette. Even when she was half asleep and heavily leaning on him, she’s never seemed so comfortable in her own skin. So sure of each movement and step. And he only can tell because he’s seen her in so many situations, with different levels of confidence and vulnerability. 

He can’t help but think he’s incredibly lucky for knowing that  _ this  _ is where Marinette is most comfortable. She may be at home in ballet, but this is where she started and this is where she’s lived the most. 

He doesn’t know if she’s ever looked more beautiful than she does right now. With her eyes sparkling and her cheeks full of color. She’s so full of happiness and life and  _ light _ . 

An excited smile spreads across her face when the song change. Adrien recognizes it as a pop song that radio stations played almost nonstop at the beginning of the summer. 

Marinette strikes a pose right on beat and then falls into familiar patterns of choreography. Adrien can see the slight change in her movements from her spontaneous ones. When the chorus comes around again, she pulls him in line with him and has him follow her, hip rolls and all. 

By the end of the song, he has it down with confidence. 

—«·»—  


Marinette leans back on her hands. “What would you do with your life if you weren’t dancing?” 

Adrien looks over to her in surprise. “Huh?” 

“If you weren’t going into dance…” She looks up at the ceiling. “Unfortunately you can’t dance forever. What will you do once you age out? What would you do if you woke up and couldn’t dance tomorrow? Where would your life lead?” 

He’s thought about this for hours. Nino and him have laid on his bed in the darkness and contemplated the future. And he has no answer. Because his future has always been laid out in front of him in the form of color coded excel sheets. 

“I… I don’t know.” Adrien knows that Nino wants to go into film. Nino loves music and dancing, and he’ll continue doing those in his free time, but his real passion is film. Even if it’s just holding a boom mic. His dream is to direct movies, but he’ll settle for sweeping a set if he has to. He knows that Alya wants to be a journalist. He knows she can whip up a website in a day, she knows coding better than Adrien knows most things. She can make dirt sound interesting. Marinette… “What about you?” He has his assumptions, but he wants to hear it from her own lips, her aspirations and her desires. He wants to know all the paths she’s considered for her future. He wants to see if there’s any way he can fit into that future. 

“Fashion,” she says. “But you knew that.” She smiles at him. “I love costume design. In ballets, in dance, in musical theater…” She sighs and sits up. “If I couldn’t go into costume design, possibly just a regular fashion designer. And if that failed, I could go to school for business and take over my parents’ bakery. It’s not The Dream, but I wouldn’t mind spending my life working there. It’s home.” 

“You put a lot of thought into this,” Adrien says. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised as he is. 

Marinette shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of midnight panics about my future. What if dance doesn’t work out? What if I suddenly get injured? What do I do after that? Fashion isn’t exactly the most _ sound _ career option, and neither is dance. And like Alya always says, we’ve got a back up plan.”

“Living in a cardboard box,” he remembers with a smile. 

She hums in agreement. “The most comfortable box money can buy.”

Adrien crosses his legs. “I guess… Honestly, I have no idea. Maybe something to do with music. My whole life is centered around music, I don’t know if I’d just be able to…stop. I think it might feel wrong.” 

“Famous pianist?” Marinette suggests. 

“Yeah, my failed violinist career isn’t looking too hot right now.” He watches her fondly as she snorts. He has so many things to say to her, and no idea how to say any of them. But he has to start somewhere. 

“I talked to Chloé,” he says after a moment. 

Marinette sobers instantly, the smile vanishing from her face. Her eyes drop to the floor. “Did you?” she asks, tense and protective. 

“Before you get mad, Alya didn’t tell me,” Adrien says quickly. “She— might’ve started to? Or she thought I knew. But she refused to tell me why she called. I put together the pieces myself.” It took him far too long to, if he’s being honest. 

Marinette brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “Yeah. I just—” She takes a deep breath. “There’s nothing I can do about it any more.” 

He doesn’t like how empty she looks. “What’s competitive dancing like?” 

She furrows her eyebrows. “What?” 

“Competitive dancing.” Adrien moves a little closer to her. “What’s it like? It has to be completely different from… _ this _ .” Even the messiest parts of ballet are polished over with glitter and fabric. The aura of sophistication keeps the ballet world shrouded in something more elite. Competitive dance seems different. Like the magic curtain that keeps the mystery has been yanked away to reveal the madness to the world. The ripped tights and long hours and pounds of make up. 

It’s fascinating. 

“Competition dance…” Marinette says softly. “Okay.” She turns so she’s fully facing Adrien. “At my studio, we had to take ballet if we wanted to be on the competitive team, Two classes a week, both technically technique. When we were little, that’s all they were. When we became older, the shorter one became a pointe class.” 

“One pointe class a week?” Adrien asks with raised eyebrows. 

“Only an hour long,” she says with a shrug. “Never ruined a pair of shoes, just grew out of them. Other than that, you took whatever you had time for and were in the right age and ability group for. I took… _ so _ many classes. I did all of the normal groups and then I did small groups and duets and solos and productions and lines—” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how I got through high school with ten competitive dances each year and four additional technique classes.” 

Marinette scrunches up her nose as she thinks. “I don’t think I ever really  _ had _ a specialty. I was good at acro, I did gymnastics too when I was little so I had a good base, but I just did  _ everything _ . The only things I didn’t like were tap, because I could never do pullbacks right, and ballet.” 

“Really?” Adrien asks in surprise. 

“It was just a technique class!” she protest. “It was  _ boring _ . There was never anything new to learn, no choreography. Ballet doesn’t generally compete well unless you’re really good. It’s too… I don’t know. It’s so rarely done well and it doesn’t really fit the tone of competition.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“It’s like…” Marinette bites her lip. “ _ Chaotic _ . Breathless. Head spinning and nauseating. You don’t eat all day and someone has to force you to drink because you’re so stressed and wrapped up in everything that you just forget— or at least that’s how it was for me. People are yelling and running around. There are quick changes that are heartstopping and you can’t breathe and people are constantly moving around in the audience. Glitter is  _ everywhere _ and you will never be rid of it. You can’t find someone in your dance and you go on in one. Someone’s costume is torn, someone else is curling their hair, and the girl next to you is gluing sequins to her face. People are safety-pinning themselves into costumes and taping up bras, throwing shoes and tights and snacks… The award ceremonies are so  _ long _ and you just want to go to bed and it’s like one in the morning and… You still love it. It’s weird.”  

Adrien has to stop himself from saying ‘love is weird’. “I can’t believe you didn’t like ballet.”

“Still stuck on that, huh?” she teases. He shrugs a shoulder. She rolls her eyes. “Okay, well, the first time I wore pointe shoes in class, I thought to myself, ‘I finally made it. I am a real dancer.’ It was like everything I’d ever done was finally worth it. It was like my childhood dreams came true.” 

A soft look passes over her face and Adrien wishes he could stop time right in this exact moment. 

“The second week I was en pointe, my teacher taught us the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. And I was still falling over on chaînés.” She laughs. 

“What?” Adrien asks, surprised. 

“Your face! You look  _ scandalized _ .” Marinette snorts. “Not everyone in the class was en pointe. We were all at different levels. The teacher wasn’t able to teach us all individually so it was kind of…figure it out yourself class.” 

“Seems…dangerous?” 

“Not as much as you’d think,” she admits. “I was at a convention, just doing a ballet master class and— there was a talent scout there.” Her voice takes on a wondrous quality and Adrien thinks she could transport people across words with it. “And after the class, he approached  _ me _ . Out of everyone in that  _ huge _ room, people who were undoubtedly more talented, with cleaner turns and higher leaps, he chose to talk to me. He said he wanted me to audition for a scholarship.  _ Me _ , the girl who had never taken more than three hours of ballet a week! I have never felt more… _ special _ . Good.” 

Marinette laughs breathlessly and runs a hand through her hair. “I got past just the paperwork stuff and so many rounds of auditions that had so many people. And then we had the final audition day and I—” She presses her palm to her temple. “On the second to last combo, I fell out of a turn. And it was like my whole world ended. Everything I had ever worked for— I went home and I cried for  _ hours _ . I was  _ so sure _ it was over.”

  
“But here you are,” Adrien says, taking her hand. 

She smiles down at their hands. “Yeah. I fell out of that turn and everything I worked for was gone and something…snapped inside of me. And I finished that combo the best I could all shaken up. And when I went for the last combo— I don’t know. I don’t know what it was. It felt  _ different _ . I don’t know what I did. But I finished that combination and in the few seconds before it sunk in, I thought, ‘I did it’. Of course, then I went home and cried and waited for rejection.” 

“Which never came.”

Marinette shakes her head slowly. “No. It never did. I was so sure— but I was wrong. Out of all of those people, I was the only one in my age bracket to receive a full scholarship. Over people who have trained so much  _ harder _ for this and sometimes it felt a little like I had stolen something from them. But I haven’t. I saw something I wanted and I went for it.” There’s a hard edge in her voice. Adrien glances up to see determination in her eyes. “I went for it, and I got it. And even after everything that’s happened, I don’t regret for a second.” 

—«·»—  


Adrien unlocks the door as Marinette gets her last bag from the room. There’s no point in leaving her stuff in there if she’s going to spend the rest of the nights here in his room. 

“Need any help?” he asks as she passes him with a bag on each arm and a large suitcase dragging behind her. 

“I think I’ve got it,” she says. She struggles to fit through the doorway before sighing and handing Adrien a bag. 

He smiles and puts it on a bed as she pulls her suitcase in. “Got everything?” 

“Just need my makeup bag,” Marinette says. “I didn’t have enough hands. Be right back.” 

Adrien digs through his own bags for his makeup while she’s gone. When the door swings open again, he’s sitting on a bed with his makeup spread out over the covers. 

“What’s up?” she asks, eying the small mountain of makeup. 

“Makeup test,” he says with a small smile. “Figured I might as well do it now.” 

Marinette drops onto the bed next to him. “Okay, well you need to help me. Because I’m pretty sure that my stage makeup is going to make me look like a clown compared to the rest of you.” 

Adrien smiles. “A very pretty clown.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Let’s just do this. I need to figure out which eyeshadows go with which costumes anyway.” 

Adrien clears his throat and picks up a package of makeup wipes. He smiles brightly. “Today, we’re going to be doing a very natural look. It’s a really great daytime look, I think. You want to start with a fresh and clean face.” 

Marinette gives him a flat look. 

“A fresh and clean face,” he repeats. 

“Okay monsieur beauty blogger,” she says. She picks up her own wipes. “I’m not wasting these on a makeup-less face, so I think it’s time to move on to step two.” 

“First, do your daily face routine. If you use concealer or anything like that. Then, we apply foundation with our beauty blenders.” He pulls out a makeup sponge from a ziplock bag. He’s pretty sure Nathalie bought these in huge bulk bags. They’re definitely laying around the house somewhere. “Just apply foundation as smoothly as possibly, making sure to blend down the neck and into the hairline so there are no harsh lines.” 

“Mmm innovative,” Marinette murmurs as she dabs concealer onto her face. 

Adrien leans over and dots her nose with his makeup sponge. 

Her eyes go wide and cross to look at her nose. She gives him an unamused look. “Excuse me, I thought we were being  _ professional _ .”

“I am being professional,” Adrien says. “You’re doing it wrong.” He draws a heart on Marinette’s cheek. His concealer is a few shades too dark for her and the heart stands out against her skin. 

Marinette purses her lips. “I don’t think that’s right.” She dives forward and draws a line of concealer over his top lip.. “There!” she says as she sits back. “Beautiful.” 

Adrien picks up his mirror to see a light concealer mustache. “Could be blended better.” 

“And to think, I didn’t even charge you,” she says airily. 

“You’re getting a bad review on Yelp.” 

Marinette shoves him lightly. 

They do most of the rest of their makeup in comfortable silence. Sometimes, Marinette will ask a question or for Adrien’s opinion on how much she’s put on. He asks how much makeup she wears for competition and she just raises her eyebrows. 

“I’ll show you after,” she says. “If you promise not to run away screaming.” 

Adrien thinks she’s being overdramatic. 

He tries to be helpful when it comes to lipcolor, but he has much less of an eye for color than she does. She chooses a color for each dance based on not only what the choreographer wants, but also the costume. He’s surprised that she came so well prepared lipstick-wise. 

“It’s never the wrong time for bright lipstick,” Marinette says with a shrug. She uncaps a random tube. “Sometimes you just need to put blood red lipstick on when you’re sitting around doing nothing. It’s surprisingly motivating.” The lipstick she puts on is a rose pink and Adrien tries very hard not to think about how much it he wants to kiss her while she’s wearing it.  

He distracts himself from her lips by attempting to help with eyeshadow color. 

“If you move at all and the bed shifts so much as a millimeter, I will kill you,” Marinette says, pointing her eyeliner at Adrien. 

Adrien holds up his hands in surrender. 

He watches her apply it slowly and deliberately, drawing out the wings longer and thicker than she does for her everyday makeup. 

“One eye done,” she says after a minute. “And now to scream into the void for the rest of time, because the other eye will never look this good.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw closed position is like the waltz position
> 
> i swear to god i'm going to cry writing the next chapter. i'm not ready for this to end


	13. reverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _reverance_ : a bow or curtsy. the last exercises of a ballet class in which the ballet dancers pay respect to and acknowledge the teacher and pianist. reverence usually includes bows, curtsies, and ports de bras, and is a way of celebrating ballet's traditions of elegance and respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Ok, so, here we are. Before we start, a few things:
> 
> [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z67v6arjAnM) is the inspiration for Mari’s solo. It’s more contemporary than I imagine but it gave me a jumping off point and is also gorgeous (the skirt!!!)  
> [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-tW0CkvdDI) isn’t the inspiration for Adrien’s because I didn’t have one but it’s really amazing  
> [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4Wfy4yDK1M) I’ve linked several times and again I had no real inspiration for the duet but I used this for a few reference points 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read and commented and reblogged and left kudos! Thank you for being patient with me, thank you for enjoying this story, thank you for encouraging me. Thank you to everyone who created something for this fic because every time I saw anything in [this tag](http://sadrien.tumblr.com/tagged/tangled-ribbons-stuff) I cried for hours
> 
> Thank you to readers who have been here since the beginning, who joined along the way, who jumped on now, and who will read in the future <3
> 
> Thank you to the ml-network and mlfanfiction for your endless support. For being such fantastic friends and providing me with so many laughs and so so much love 
> 
> Thank you to matchaball for listening to me ramble and for giving me your thoughts. They helped me keep going time and time again and I don’t know what else to say other than I kind of want to frame some of your comments, because they mean the world to me
> 
> Thank you to ladriened and reyxa for promising to cry with me. Thank you to KC for kicking me in the butt, reminding me to be productive, keeping this secret, and providing emotional support. We both know I needed it seeing I wrote most of this in a week. Also thank you for keeping me alive. Thank you to Rey for rereading this, which reminded me that I had to actually write it to finish it, and for inadvertently giving me this deadline. I know you meant it as a joke, but thank you. Also, I know you said to warn you a week in advance, but I would’ve needed a time machine to do that when you mentioned that soooo… <3 Sorry it’s not a coffeeshop au, but I did my best. Happy birthday!!
> 
> Thank you again to zoenightstars, chassecroise, adastrabella, and chatstronaut for being with me since the beginning. This never would’ve gotten off the ground if you hadn’t been there to listen to me scream, so I cannot thank you all enough!
> 
> And finally, thank you to gabzilla-z. Thank you for inspiring me with your art because and thank you for supporting this fic <3 Without you, we wouldn’t be here
> 
> I hope you all enjoy~

Marinette carefully makes her way through the class of younger dancers who are milling about in the lobby while waiting for their costumes. One of the girls gasps, her eyes sparkling.

“You’re so pretty!” she coos, clapping her hands together.

Marinette thanks her and can barely keep the smile off her face as everyone else starts chiming in. Marinette turns pink as she ducks inside the studio, leaving the group to talk loudly and excitedly about their own costumes.

“Finally fight your way through your adoring fans?” Adrien jokes as he chaînés out of a turn. He spins to face Marinette and his eyes go wide in surprise.

Marinette bites her lip and glances to the mirror. She twists to see the back of the bodice, her heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of her chest.

“Do you like it?” Adrien asks. He walks over to her with a soft smile on his face.

Marinette laughs breathlessly. “Promise not to judge me if I just scream?”

“No judgement,” he promises. “How does it fit?”

She forces herself to focus on the feel of the costume. She twists left and right before doing port de bras forward and backward. She throws a quick double and then relaxes as much as possible. “I think that the bodice probably needs to be just a little bit more snug. But other than that, it fits really well.” Tiny alterations, nothing more. She could do them herself, but she has a feeling that the costume director would rather handle them. “You?”

Adrien studies himself in the mirror. “Honestly, the pants are a nice change. I’m kind tired of wearing white tights. And I’m always afraid that I’m going to ruin them.”

Marinette laughs. She moves back and forth so the skirt twists around her legs. “This might be the nicest thing I’ve ever worn,” she murmurs.

“You make everything look nice,” Adrien says honestly.

She feels her cheeks grow warm as she meets his eyes in the mirror. She pulls away her gaze to look at their costumes together, _not_ thinking about what he just said. She appreciates that Tikki — and Plagg, but mostly Tikki — chose less lavish costumes for the duet. Marinette adores her costume for the production, a deep red traditional tutu with intricate designs and embroidery that reminds her vaguely of her own ladybug tutu, but she can’t help but love the simplicity of these costumes just as much. A simple white satin bodice with embroidered pink flowers and a thin skirt made of silky light pink fabric that reaches just below her knees. The flowers continue down the skirt getting darker and darker in color. Adrien’s shirt is light teal with loose sleeves that come together at the wrists and has stitching done in different shades of blues and greens.

They look like they belong together.

The thought makes her cheeks turn pinker. Anyway.

“Think it fits well enough for a test run?” Adrien asks. “Tikki and Plagg won’t be back for at least twenty minutes. They’re helping Nooroo and Trixx with the costumes for all of the younger groups.”

Marinette brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “You say twenty minutes, I say four years. Have you ever worked with a large group of thirteen year olds?”

“Uh…”

“Exactly,” she says. “They are never getting out of there.”

Adrien shrugs. “More time to ourselves then.”   

Marinette yanks her mind out of the gutter as Adrien moves over to the stereos to turn on the music. She adjusts the placement of the skirt on her hips, trying to find the same spot were the costume director had told her her other tutus should rest.

She frowns as the music plays through the speakers. “This…is not our music.” She swears she’s heard this song somewhere before, but certainly not well enough to know why Adrien would choose it.

He smiles playfully and takes her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “No, it’s not. But like you said, we have time.” He pulls her into closed position and starts waltzing her around the room. “ _Dancing through life_ ,” he sings along softly, “ _skimming the surface, gliding where turf is smooth_ —”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Okay, I get it now.” 

Adrien raises his eyebrows. “Are you saying you don’t know this song?”

She shrugs. “I’ve heard it before?”

He stops spinning them. “I can’t believe you don’t know Wicked. I feel like we can’t be friends anymore.”

Marinette snorts. “Really?”

“Really. The duet is cancelled.”

“Are you saying I need to give back the costume?” she asks. “Because I really don’t want to.”

Adrien gives her a once over. “Duet is momentarily postponed,” he decides. “Because I can’t _believe_ you don’t know Wicked.”

“I know Wicked!” Marinette protests. “I know _some_ of Wicked.” 

“Defying Gravity doesn’t count.” 

“…I don’t know Wicked.”

He laughs lightly. “I know you don’t. I’ll have to bring you to see it sometime, then you’ll know it.”

“R-really?” she asks. That’s not just going out to coffee, that’s more. That’s a lot of money. That’s—

Adrien smiles. “It’s a date.”

Marinette’s breath catches in her throat as Adrien pulls them back into a waltz. She wonders if he realizes that he’s casually planned multiple dates for after this summer intensive is over. She wonders if he considers them actual dates. She wonders if it’s weird that she’s keeping count. He’s at six.

“You’re a nerd,” she says instead.

“For the time being, I’m your nerd,” Adrien says.

Marinette wishes she could get rid of the first part of that sentence.

* * *

Marinette hums in agreement whenever Alya pauses to breathe. She’s not exactly sure what Alya is ranting about at this exact moment, she’s trying to figure out the best way to get her ballet bun exactly where it needs to be. It’s been slipping in class after lots of turning and she needs it to not do that during the performance.

“ _…how I grew a ears and tail._ ”

Marinette frowns. “Excuse me?” she asks through a mouthful of bobby pins.

Alya raises her eyebrows. “ _I knew you weren’t paying attention_.”

Marinette spits the bobby pins out on the counter. “I _am_ paying attention.”

Alya scoffs. “ _Sure you are. What’s up?_ ”

“Nothing,” Marinette insists. “I’m just…distracted.”

Alya wiggles her eyebrows. “ _By a certain someone?_ ”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “By my _hair_ .” She thinks about Adrien a lot but he doesn’t take up _all_ of her thoughts.

“ _Oh. Well…that’s less fun. Are you sure you’re not a_ little _bit distracted by him?_ ”

“Shut up,” Marinette mutters. “You know I am, you don’t have to rub it in my face.”

Alya snorts. “ _At least you’ve made progress. Let me tell you, for like the first half of the summer I actually wanted to scream. Like come_ on _at least get his phone number._ ”

“Why are you so invested in my love life?”

“ _Because it’s more entertaining than most forms of media. And also because if I wasn’t so invested you wouldn’t even_ have _Adrien’s number._ I _got that for you_.”

Marinette examines her hair in the mirror. This might work. “I’m sure I would’ve been fine without your help.”

“ _Mhm. Keep telling yourself that._ ”

“I will.”

“ _Speaking of the bae—_ ”

“He’s not my bae—”

“ _Not yet. I was just going to ask if he’s back yet or if he’s dancing himself into the ground in the studio._ ”

“He has additional solo work today with Plagg.”

“ _Aw it’s so sweet how you know each other’s schedules._ ”

Marinette takes a step away from the counter and does a single pirouette in the cramped space. Her hair feels fairly solid, but she’ll need to test it out in an actual studio space to be sure. “Of course I know his schedule,” she says. “We live together, it’s hard not to.”

“ _You’re so married_ ,” Alya coos.

Marinette feels her face grow hot. “Shut up,” she mumbles, gathering up the bobby pins scattered around the sink.

“ _You so wish you were, though_.”

“You remember that we’re teenagers, right?” Marinette asks.

Alya sighs dramatically. Marinette looks to the screen to see her resting in her chin in her hands. “ _You can be teenagers and still be hopelessly in love_.” Alya raises an eyebrow.

“I kind of hate having you as a friend.”

“ _I know you do_ .” Alya blows a kiss at the screen. “ _And as much as I’d love to continue this truly thrilling one sided conversation_ —” Marinette rolls her eyes. “— _I’ve got a shift in ten minutes and school debts that I have to start thinking about_ .” 

Marinette groans. “ _Please_ don’t remind me of that.”

“ _Too late darling_ ,” Alya singsongs. “ _We’re best friends, we’re stuck in this mess together. We suffer through this_ together.”

“Well that’s unfortunate.” 

“ _Tell me about it. Text you later?_ ”

Marinette hums in agreement as she starts tugging bobby pins from her hair.

“ _Let me know when the marshmallow gets home from practice, yeah?_ ”

“Of course.” Marinette makes a face as she yanks out the hair elastics. “It’ll probably be pretty soon. He’s been gone for a while.” 

“ _You dancers and your lack of chill_ ,” Alya teases. “ _Love you lots, bye!_ ” 

“Bye!” Marinette shuts her laptop once Alya’s ended the call. She undoes the rest of her hair and dumps her hair stuff into her bag. She can organize it later, right now she’s just sort of wiped.

She curls up in the desk chair with her laptop once she’s put away all her dance stuff for tomorrow and has changed into pajamas. It’s not even that late, but there’s no way she’s leaving the room tonight. She finds a random movie on Netflix and plugs in her headphones, letting the movie fade to simple background noise as she doodles mindlessly in her sketchbook. Tonight, her sketches are less about the designs and more about the people, which is a rare event. She draws swooping arms and twisting bodies and movement fills the page. Marinette has never really been one for anatomy. Fashion sketches don’t require that type of precision and usually are inaccurate to actual proportions and body structure. It’s more about the clothes than the anatomy.

Marinette finds herself drawing motion, flowing from one person to the next, the designs dancing off the page.

She groans and puts her head down on the desk.

The sketches might look brilliant in the morning, but she needs a few hours away from dance. With the showcase only three days away, her mind has become consumed entirely by dance. She can’t get the instrumental music out of her head or her feet to do any other steps. She finds herself doing balancés down the hallway more often than usual and piques her way around empty rooms. She drags her steps into tendus and falls into tombés. She pas de bourrees when she can’t stay still and found herself doing the footwork for her solo when standing in line at Starbucks.

Adrien had given her an amused smile, dragging his toe in a small rond de jambe.

Marinette sighs and lifts her head from the desk. She’s going to miss this. The Starbucks runs and the crammed schedule. Late nights and pillow forts and Disney movies. Rose’s laugh when she finally perfects a combination and the way Nathanael lights up whenever he nails a turn. And Adrien. What won’t she miss about Adrien?

She turns her attention to the movie. She’s not entirely sure what’s happening. Something dramatic. Probably cheesy and cliche and romantic. Something Adrien would love.

Marinette misses home, but she’s going to miss this just as much.

Just as she’s getting invested in the characters, she _swears_ they’re going to kiss as soon as they’re standing close enough together, the door swings open. She lifts her head from her knee to see Adrien standing in the doorway looking completely exhausted and worn down. She hits the spacebar to pause the movie and tugs out an earbud.

“Good rehearsal?” she asks.

Adrien drops his bag on the ground and leans against the door to close it. “I hate Plagg,” he murmurs. He runs a hand through his hair, immediately make a face of disgust. “Oh _god_.” His hair sticks up in all directions and Marinette knows the feeling of finishing a rehearsal and just feeling like a gross sweat rag.

She motions to the bathroom. “Shower. I can order food. Same as usual?”

“Please. Pajamas already?” 

Marinette shrugs. “I’m tired.” 

“Okay, that’s relatable.” Adrien pulls at his shirt and makes a face. “I’m going to join you.” He grabs his clothes and disappears into the bathroom.

Marinette hears the shower turn on and spins lazily in the desk chair as she orders food for them. She’s not exactly sure how she picked up Adrien’s order, she thinks she just heard it enough times to know it. Once she’s finished, she goes back to her movie because, frankly, she’s far more invested in it than she should be and she just really needs to know the outcome.

Once the food is ordered, she goes back to the movie. The characters kiss, _finally_ , with swooping music and dramatic lighting and everything about it is perfect and romantic, from the clothing to the location to the actors’ hair. She was right, Adrien would love this movie and all its overdramatic goodness.

Marinette is scrolling through Netflix — she suddenly has an awful lot of recommended movies of a similar caliber to the one she just watched — when the food arrives. She pays quickly and puts Adrien’s food on his bed, returning to the desk. She eats slowly as she watches, amazed by the pure predictableness of the movie she’s chosen. She doesn’t really know why she chose it. The title was bland and she had the “plot twist” figured out as soon as she read the description but here she is, half invested in another bad movie.

How has this become her life?

A few minutes later, Adrien emerges from the bathroom, hair damp and still sticking up in all directions. He grabs his glasses from the bedside table and slides them on. “I’ll pay you back later,” he promises as he gets his own laptop and sits on the bed to eat.

Marinette waves him away. “It’s fine, I’ve got this one.”

“You sure?”

She nods. “Positive. You buy Starbucks all the time anyway.”

“If you’re totally sure.”

“I am.” To prove her point, and end the conversation, Marinette turns back to her movie.

She hears Adrien say ‘thank you’ over the fairly cliché dialogue and can’t help but smile.

—«·»—

“Hey, Mar?” Adrien asks suddenly.

She pulls out one of her earbuds, eyes trained on the action on her screen. “Yeah?”

“What do you think would happen if I bathed in Icy Hot?” he muses.

Marinette snorts and takes out the other earbud, pausing the movie. “You’d probably smell like mint for the rest of time. And it’d burn in places you do _not_ want it to burn.”

He hums thoughtfully.

She narrows her eyes and glances over her shoulder to look at him suspiciously. “… _why_?”

“I’m not going to do it,” he promises. “I was just thinking about what I could do with all this Icy Hot. Since I have more than enough to last a lifetime.” He drops the Icy Hot he’s holding onto his bed, where it joins eight other tubes of Icy Hot.

Marinette stares at the pile of Icy Hot. She did not realize he had so much. “Nathalie?” she asks after a moment.

Adrien nods. “I can’t tell if she thinks I get injured more than I do or if she just doesn’t realize how little Icy Hot you need for like…your entire back.”

Marinette shoves away from the desk and spins the chair so she’s facing Adrien. She takes one of tubes. “I’m almost out.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, but how long have you had that one thing of Icy Hot.”

Marinette taps the tube against her chin. “Maybe a year?”

Adrien gestures to all of the Icy Hot in front of him. “Exactly!”

“I think Nathalie just likes to be prepared,” Marinette says as she spins away to hide a smile. When she’d been getting ready to leave for the summer, her parents had gone overboard with buying things she might need. It was just how they showed her how much they were going to miss her and worry about her while she was gone. She tosses the Icy Hot onto her bag on the floor. “I’m sure someone in the studio needs Icy Hot, I’m sure if you asked around you could get rid of it all in seconds.”

“Nathalie likes to _over_ prepare,” Adrien corrects.  

“Is that a bad thing?” she asks.

He looks down at his mountain of Icy Hot thoughtfully. “No, not really,” he murmurs.

“We can bring it to class tomorrow,” Marinette says. She wraps her earbuds around her finger. “It’ll be gone in the blink of an eye.”

Adrien gathers up the Icy Hots in his arms and dumps them into his bag. “Sounds like a plan,” he says with a smile. “Maybe I can pawn most of them off to Nathanael without him realizing.”

“If you just stuff them in his big when he isn’t looking. you might actually get away with it.”

“Christmas comes early.” He flops back on his bed.

“Icy Hot as the new stocking stuffer,” Marinette muses. “I don’t think it’s going to be replacing oranges any time soon.” 

Adrien shrugs. “I tried my best. What are you doing, anyway?”

She glances to her computer. “Watching mediocre romcoms on Netflix.”

“Sounds like something I’d like.”

She smiles. “Probably. It’s all gross and emotional.” 

Adrien gasps. “Hey! I am the perfect amount of gross and emotional.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Did you want to join me?”

“Not particularly,” Adrien admits. “You just seem…tense.”

Marinette stops playing with her earbuds. She had nearly forgotten all the fidgeting she was doing while watching. The movies were distracting enough, but she had needed to do something with her hands. She drops her earbuds into her lap. “Just a little stressed.”

Adrien scoots over and pats the bed next to him.

“Are we having a therapy session?” Marinette asks as she closes her laptop and gets up to join him.

“Only if you want to.” He opens his arms and she sighs before leaning into them, resting her head on his shoulder. He wraps her in a loose hug. “Is it the showcase?”

“Mhm.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Adrien promises. “Besides, we’ve still got two days of rehearsal. That’s plenty of time to clean anything you think needs to be better.”

“Saturday’s really close,” Marinette murmurs.

“Yeah, but we’ve been training non stop for almost ten weeks.” He runs his hand over her hair. “We can’t get much better than we already are. It’s like a test. You know what you know, cramming the night before isn’t going to help much.”

She closes her eyes. “I guess you’re right.” She sinks into his embrace. “It doesn’t exactly feel real yet.”

Adrien hums softly. “I get that. When do you think it might feel real?”

“Ten minutes before?” she offers.

He snorts. “That sounds like it’s pushing it.”

“I like to live life on the edge,” Marinette deadpans.

Adrien shifts and she can feel his nose pressing against her hair. She wonders if his mind is taking frantic notes of how they’re sitting, how they’re touching, how they’re _breathing_. She’s noting everything about this that she can— it’s going to be gone so soon.

Marinette’s not going to think about that.

She sighs and pulls away from Adrien just a little so she can see his face. “What do you want to do tonight?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Honestly, I was going to binge Disney channel movies.”

Marinette nods and scoots over to make herself more comfortable on the bed. “That sounds perfect to me.”

* * *

 Marinette braces herself as she spins en pointe on the smooth, gray Marley floors. It’s been weeks since she danced on Marley and she’s forgotten the feeling.

She arches back and falls down from pointe with ease, gliding back to hide among the back row of dancers while a different row takes the front of the stage.

The theater the showcase will be held in is gorgeous. The large chandelier and the intricate designs along the walls of the stage make Marinette feel like she’s in a fairy tale. She can feel the music in her bones more than she could in the studio and it seems like ages since she’s had real stage lights on her, hot and blinding.

She ducks into the wings once the song has ended and Nooroo has given critiques, mostly about the spacing. She weaves through the dancers squeezed backstage and makes her way to the dressing rooms. The youngest dancers share large rooms, but as one of the eldest, Marinette has one of the small, offstage rooms. She only has to share with Rose, Sabrina, Aurore, and Chloé.

They’re dealing with that as well as they can. And by dealing, she means that her and Chloé aren’t speaking. In turn, Marinette and Sabrina aren’t speaking. Aurore is staying out of it and not speaking in general and Rose is being her sweetheart self and trying to fix it.

The most interaction Marinette and Chloé have had is when Chloé raised a judgemental eyebrow at Marinette’s solo costume. Yes, it’s much more simple than Chloé’s elaborate and sparkling costume, but Marinette thinks it fits the dance and she likes dancing in it. It’s just a white romantic tutu that falls just below her knees and a top that’s really nothing more than a white sports bra, but Marinette wouldn’t have anything else.

Marinette meets Chloé’s eyes in the mirror when Chloé enters the dressing room. Chloé scrunches up her nose and looks away while Marinette rolls her eyes and focuses on taking out her hair piece.

If they can survive this dress rehearsal, they can survive the performance.

* * *

 

Marinette gasps, arms shaking as she struggles to hold the last pose. The gentle notes of the next song on her playlist start up and it takes all the energy she has left in her not to collapse to the ground in a quivering heap.

“It’s beautiful,” Tikki says, her eyes sparkling. She clasps her hands together. “As near to perfection as it can be.”

Marinette drops pointe and sinks to the ground. She brushes away the sweaty bangs that have come loose and reminds herself to make sure they’re extra gelled for the performance.

If only she had danced this way a month ago.

If she had, maybe her jumps at the end wouldn’t be so weak. She’d put her all into the run, but she has no stamina left for the final bars.

She looks up to Tikki and places her hands on her head, taking measured breaths to try and slow her heartbeat. “R-really?”

Tikki joins her on the floor with a sparkling smile. “The _best_ I’ve seen it,” she promises.

“If I’d done that a week ago it could be even better now,” Marinette murmurs.

Tikki tsks. “Hush, look at how brilliantly you just performed it! And with less than ten weeks to perfect it? Marinette, all I have to offer are little critiques and tips, there’s nothing drastic you could change to make this routine any better than it can be with the dancer you are right now.”

Marinette gives her a worried look. “What if I _know_ I could be a better dancer?”

“If you came back to this dance in a year, you would dance a million times better than you just did. If I gave it to you a year ago, you would’ve given me a _fraction_ of what you showed me today. You will keep improving with time, what’s important is that you show how good you are in this very moment. Which I know you can do. You’ve proven it to me time and time again.”

Marinette sighs and gives Tikki a small smile. She feels a little relieved and a little more relaxed but nothing anyone can say will release the anxiety in her chest. It’s going to haunt her until tomorrow night, when she steps onstage and shows the world what she can and can’t do. “Thank you,” she manages. “I… Sorry.”  

Tikki shakes her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Pre-performance anxiety is nothing to scoff at, we all get it sometimes. Some worse than others.”

“You?” Marinette asks hesitantly.

“Plagg gets it worse,” Tikki whispers lowly. “He uses an awful lot of bravado to offset his nerves.”

Marinette raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Plagg?”

“Mhm.” Tikki nods. “It was a lot worse when we were kids, for the both of us. It’s something you get a little more adjusted to over time.”

Marinette thinks back to her first competition. At the time it’d been nerve wracking but she doesn’t think she really understood everything enough to be nearly this anxious. Her first solo though— that was another story entirely. She’d been an anxious mess. She was just lucky that her anxiety hadn’t transferred to her dance like she’d been so sure it was going to.

“Don’t stay in here too late,” Tikki says, snapping Marinette out of her thoughts. Tikki presses a kiss to Marinette’s forehead before she stands. “You need your rest.”

“Of course,” Marinette mumbles, still slightly stuck in the confines of her mind. It’s not until the door clicks shut behind Tikki that she can get out.

Marinette looks around the studio. Large and empty and blank. Like a canvas she could cover in art. Tikki had dimmed the lights slightly when she left. All that’s left is Marinette.

Marinette pulls herself off the floor. She runs her solo. She runs it without music playing aloud, but the notes float through her head, her internal metronome keeping the beat. She lets herself not care as much about the technical aspects of the pieces as she does when being watched. She lets herself sink into the music and just let go.

The boxes of her shoe hit the floor hard as she jumps and lands en pointe.

There’s something about practicing in a darkened, quiet studio that makes her bare her soul in a way that she usually doesn’t.

She finishes her solo and moves on to the duet.

This is harder. She can’t do any of the lifts. She has to imagine Adrien there as she ghosts through the steps, allowing herself to feel far more than she ever does during this dance. Because feeling more while dancing with Adrien can only end in heartbreak.

And yet, she’s never felt more while dancing than with him.

Marinette brushes the thoughts away as she throws herself into a grande jeté. She arches backward and bends her foot up to her head before straightening to land with a gentle ease. She spins as she runs out of the leap, twisting to an invisible partner that she keeps imaging stepping up behind her.

It’s easier to practice group dances on her own, where she’s not relying on another person’s support and existence for a performance. It’s a group dance, but she can do it on her own.

Marinette’s shoes are pinching her feet. She knows that if Tikki finds out how long she’s been en pointe, she’ll be chided relentlessly, or as relentlessly as Tikki can manage. Marinette just sighs and sinks against the barre. She slides down it and lets herself fall backward to hit the wall, dropping to the floor.

Sometimes, dancing makes her feel alive. Sometimes, she finishes and just feels empty.

Marinette unties her pointe shoes and pulls them off, wiggling her toes. She’ll stay off of her feet when she gets back to her room. But for now…

Marinette checks her phone. It’s only seven, not that late. Not late enough to warrant going back just yet. Classes had ended early so everyone could rest for tomorrow’s performance. And she will. She’s just not done here yet.

Marinette tucks away her pointe shoes. She’s at a loss, not exactly what to do next. She only knows that she’s not ready to leave the studio just yet. She stares herself down in the mirror. She looks exhausted and drained. She has better posture than she did at the beginning of the summer and stands with her chin raised with a sort of elegant ease she didn’t think she had before.

She looks different. Maybe not everything she learned had to do with dance.

If she listens closely, she can hear the strains of soft ballet music coming from the studio next to her. Suddenly, Marinette knows exactly what she has to do.

She tugs down her leotard and _breathes_.

She breathes away the anxieties and the stress and the nerves. She tugs on sweatpants and pulls her tights off her feet, rolling the top of her leotard down to her waist and rolling down the waistband of her tights to meet them. She pulls out a select few bobby pins and shakes down her bangs, pausing for a second before pulling out the elastic that holds her hair up in a bun.

Marinette studies herself in the mirror.

This is the Marinette she knows beyond anything else. Wearing baggy sweatpants and an old sports bra, hair back in a messy ponytail, exhausted and sweaty from dancing till her muscles gave out.

At times in the past ten weeks, she felt like she was losing this part of herself. But she hasn’t. She’s still right here. All of her. Ballerina Marinette, competitive dancer Marinette. She’s embraced the ballet part of herself more this summer than ever, but the rest of her is still here.

She feels sort of empty, but it’s not because of this. She doesn’t know what it is.

She looks away from herself and plugs in her phone. She doesn’t find a playlist so much as her fingers do, moving by with memory than anything else. She soaks in the pulsing bass and surprisingly soulful lyrics.

And she dances.

—«·»—

Marinette finds Adrien in his studio. Honestly, that hasn’t been a surprise for weeks, it’s just expected at this point. Unlike her, he’s still wrapped up in the world of ballet and it’s pristine, glittering lights and elegance.

At this point, she knows his routine as well as her own. She’s watched him struggle perfecting combinations and stumble through steps. She knows Plagg’s running commentary almost as well.

She inhales sharply and bites her lip as Adrien chaînés before launching himself into a butterfly jump. She remembers Adrien telling her how Plagg had demonstrated it with an easy grace before letting him have the floor. And then Adrien continued to mess it up again and again and again. The timing was wrong, he wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t rotating enough. Marinette had spent hours with him in the studio, working mostly on turning sequences while he tried to get this one jump down.

He’d pulled her aside, a grainy old video pulled up on his phone. They watched in amazement as Gabriel Agreste — _the_ Gabriel Agreste, ballet legend and Adrien’s _father_ , a fact that Marinette has never exactly gotten over — executed the butterfly jump flawlessly with unimaginable ease.

“I’m going to do it,” Adrien said with new determination in his eyes. “I’m going to do this and it is going to be _perfect_ .” 

Marinette hadn’t doubted him for a second. Even as he crashed to the floor.

Her heart is in her throat as he soars through the air for a single beat before landing gracefully on the floor and spinning to a kneel. She can’t keep the smile off her face. She’s seen him land it countless times at this point but that doesn’t stop her from feeling a surge of excitement and pride whenever he does.

She lets him finish the run of his routine before she makes her presence known. She knows how he gets during runs, lost in his own mind that it’s nearly impossible to break him out of it.

Adrien smiles at her from the corner across the room where he finishes his solo. “Good?” he asks through heavy breaths.

“Amazing,” Marinette corrects.

“You flatter me,” he insists. He runs his hand through his hair. “I stumbled going into the pas de chat.”

She shrugs. “That’s an easy fix. Just make sure your footing is more solid out of that turn next time.”

Adrien stretches out his arms. “One more run and I swear I’ll stop.”

“Want me to put on the music?” 

“Yes please.”

Marinette restarts the song and leans against the wall as she watches Adrien melt into his solo. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of watching him dance. Watching videos on YouTube and Instagram had been one thing, seeing him dance in person is another experience entirely. Dancing _with_ him…

The footwork into his pas de chat is perfect.

“Good?” she asks as the song comes to an end.

“Better.” Adrien joins her by the stereo. “Did you want to go home?”

Marinette shrugs. “It’s not even eight.”  
  
He checks the time. “No, it isn’t.” The corner of his lips lifts in a smirk as a familiar pop ballad starts. “Wanna dance?”

She smiles and puts down her bag. “I’d love to.”

—«·»—

Adrien turns off the stereo and lights in the studio as Marinette ducks behind the front desk. She picks up the cloth bag that remains, other is in her bag at her hip.

Marinette opens the bag and peaks inside, sighing softly as she looks at the shining pink pointe shoes inside. She closes the bag and holds it to her chest.

This is it.

* * *

Marinette wakes before the sun rises.

She stares at the ceiling for a very long time, too anxiety ridden to move. Competitions always leave her a little jittery. She doesn’t eat well on competition days and someone usually has to remind her to stay hydrated. Her emotions are high strung and on the surface. The stress leaves her tense until the music starts up when she’s onstage. And as soon as it ends, it’s right back the nauseating anxiety.

It’s exhausting, but she loves it.

At least her mind is fairly empty.

Her anxiety is shimmering, but it’s not at the forefront of her mind. It’s kind of just tugging at her gut. Mostly she just zones out. Her thoughts go nowhere in particular, flitting from topic to topic, too distracted and out of it to settle on anything.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been awake when Adrien says, “You up?”

“Hm?” Marinette turns her head to look to the other bed. She wishes they’d been able to move the beds together so they could be closer. The distance between her and Adrien feels awkward and _wrong_. Usually she’d rather squeeze onto Adrien’s bed with him, but they had to actually get a decent night’s rest with the showcase the next day

No, not the next day. The showcase is _today_.

“Been up for long?” Adrien murmurs.

Marinette rubs her eyes. “I have no idea. Wha’ time is it?”

“Um…” He squints as he checks his phone, momentarily blinded by the brightness of his screen. “Too early,” he grumbles, flopping back down on his pillow. He covers his eyes with his arm. “G’night.”

She can’t keep lying here.

Marinette sits up and runs her fingers through her hair. She winces as they get caught in knots. She didn’t want to have to deal with a tangled mess of a bedhead today. Whatever.

She swings her legs over the side of the bed and flexes her toes before getting up and wandering around the room. She needs a purpose before she has to start getting ready for the showcase.  

Adrien lifts his arm from his eyes. “Where are you going?”

Marinette gestures vaguely with her hands before kneeling down next to her bag. “I don’t know,” she admits. “Nowhere?” She finds a scrap of fabric and some thread. This works.

“You okay?”

“Restless.” She drops down on the foot of Adrien’s bed and curls her legs up under her. She threads the needle and starts mindlessly embroidering the scrap.

Adrien sits up. He yawns and squints at Marinette. She glances up from her work and gives him a half smile.

“I need sugar,” he mumbles.

“Before a performance?” Marinette asks. “I thought you’d be a health nut about this.”

“I want to be awake.” He ruffles his hair. “If I’m avoiding anything, it’s going to be caffeine.”

“Yeah probably don’t start drinking coffee today.”

Adrien slaps his cheeks a few times and then shakes his head, opening his eyes wide. “Right. I’m alive.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

He tries to hold back a yawn and fails. “Never mind.” He lays back down and covers his face with the pillow.

Marinette stabs at the fabric a few times. “I don’t like this,” she mutters. 

“What?” Adrien asks, his voice muffled.

“ _This_ ,” she says, gesturing to nothing. “I don’t like… _this_ .” 

He lifts the pillow to look at her. “Mari, I love you, but I’m not telepathic. I can’t read minds. This feeling, this day, this bed, this fabric, this weather, this air, this—” Marinette feins poking at his leg with the needle. He jerks away and curls up in a ball. “Sorry, sorry!”

She glares at him before she falls back into the spot next to him with a sigh. “I don’t know.” She holds the fabric up to the light. “This…feeling. I guess. Which is weird because I get competition anxiety and it doesn’t exactly feel like… _this_.”

Adrien uncurls and studies the fabric with her. “Does it feel worse? Better? Is it indescribable?”

“…indescribable,” she decides softly. “I just know it’s not the same.” She lowers the fabric and turns her head to look at him. “Do you feel it?”

He purses his lip and holds out a hand.

Marinette hesitates before putting her hand in his.  

“Squeeze.”

She chews on her lip as she squeezes hard, knowing exactly what Adrien is doing.

“I feel it,” Adrien says after a moment. “Unfortunately, I can’t feel my hand anymore.”

Marinette can’t help herself, she laughs. She covers her eyes with her free arm and laughs and laughs and it’s not even that funny but she can’t stop _laughing_.

“Better?” Adrien asks when she’s breathing normally again. He gives her a crooked smile and squeezes her hand tight.

Marinette sticks her tongue out at him and squeezes his hand harder. “Sure.” She does, just a bit. Some of the pent up… _feelings_ are gone now. It’s kind of unfair that Adrien always seems to know what to do when she never knows what to say to him.

Adrien studies their hands. “I’m not good with performance anxiety,” he murmurs.

She scoffs. “You seem fine to me.”

“Oh well, yeah. I’m sort of used to it at this point. I meant in other people. I’m not good with people.”

That’s a blatant lie. “You’re good with people,” Marinette insists.

Adrien shakes his head. “I am really really not. My role model growing up was _Plagg_.”

Marinette giggles. “Okay, fair point. You had Tikki too, though.”

“True. But still, I’m still figuring things out.” He kisses the back of her hand.

Her heart flutters. _So am I_ , she thinks. “You wanted sugar?”

Adrien raises his eyes. “Starbucks?”

“Please.”

—«·»—

Marinette takes in the heavy coffee smell and the familiar background sounds of the Starbucks. She’s found that most Starbucks are similar in both aspects because of course they are, it’s a chain franchise. But this is different, because it’s her and Adrien’s Starbucks.

She swipes his drink to take a sip of it.

Adrien raises his eyebrows at her and takes her hot chocolate, muttering, “Fine then.”

“It’s hot,” she says as he goes to drink it.

He rolls his eyes and drinks it anyway.

She doesn’t bother hiding her smile when he makes a pained expression. Their phones vibrate on the table.

 **From: Nino  
** **To: the fellowship  
**      you up?

Adrien yawns as Marinette looks up from her phone.

 **From: cupcake queen ✌ / adrien’s gf / Marinette  
** **To: the fellowship  
**      Barely

She takes a picture of Adrien staring off into the distance looking half asleep and sends it in the groupchat. He looks down at his phone as it buzzes.

“Anything important?”

She shakes her head. “Nope,” she says innocently.

 **From: Nino  
** **To: the fellowship  
**      he looks ready to dance

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: the fellowship  
**      i know ur dancers  
     and ur super extra  
     and have rehearsals  
     but it is a saturday   
     and i want to sleep  
     so pls

Marinette rolls her eyes, but she can’t blame Alya. When Marinette had checked her phone this morning, there had been messages from Alya that were sent after two in the morning and the website Alya was insisting upon making had an entirely new navigation system.

 **From: Nino** ****  
**To: the fellowship  
**      my bad dude  
     see you all tonight  
     break a leg!!

 **From: the greatest person ever  
** **To: the fellowship  
**      ditto!

 **From: cupcake queen ✌ / adrien’s gf / Marinette  
** **To: the fellowship  
**      Thanks guys!! See you then <3

She frowns as she sips Adrien’s drink. She flips through her messages a few times. There has to be a way…

Her thumb freezes over Nino’s contact. Perfect.

 **From: adrien’s gf** ****  
**To: Nino  
**      Hey do you want to do me a favor??

 **From: Nino  
** **To: adrien’s gf  
**      sure my dude  
     how can i help?

Adrien takes another sip of Marinette’s hot chocolate, apparently past the point of caring that it was too hot to drink. “What do you want to do until we have to be at the theater?” he asks.

 **From: adrien’s gf  
** **To: Nino  
**      Give me a minute and Ill explain

Marinette hums and puts her phone down. “I don’t know, what are we supposed to do with…sevenish hours?”

“Nap?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Alright not nap.” Adrien runs a hand through his hair. “Honestly, usually on performance days I just lay around and stretch and watch TV. Try to eat healthy and make sure I don’t tire myself out beforehand.”

Marinette sips Adrien’s drink thoughtfully. “So…grocery shopping then binge watch something on Netflix.”

“Yup, that sounds pretty perfect.” Adrien puts Marinette’s hot chocolate down in front of her and takes his strawberry acai. “I think that’s yours.”

—«·»—

Adrien eats a bagel while he stretches his calves out against the wall. Marinette flips through Netflix before deciding on a sitcom they’ll both probably get way too invested in. She pulls out of her split once she presses play and twists into a backbend.

“I was going to ask if you were hungry, but I’m thinking now might not be the best time,” Adrien jokes.

She pulls her chin to her chest. “Yeah, maybe not,” she says, voice slightly strained from her position. “I am, but give me a minute?”

“Sure thing.”

Marinette straights her right leg up into the air and holds it before switching to the left. Then she drops onto her elbows and rocks back and forth a few times before she pops back up to her hands. She holds the bridge for a few seconds more before pulls herself up to standing.

“Show off,” Adrien mutters.

Marinette rolls her eyes and flicks her bangs out her eyes.

“Alright what do you want to eat? Healthy or healthier?”

“I’m thinking or,” she says, dropping down onto the bed.

“Or it is.” Adrien tosses her a box of granola bars. “Bon appétit.”

Marinette opens the box and pulls out two granola bars before throwing it back to him. “They’re going to date,” she says, nodding to the screen where two characters are sharing a not so subtle gaze.

“Before or after midseason?” he asks. “I’ll bet you the plum.”

She takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. “Episode…seven.”

“Very exact.”

She shrugs. “Lucky number.”

“Fair enough.” Adrien sits down on the other bed and crosses his legs. “This is going to be terrible, isn’t it?”

Marinette nods. “Almost definitely.”

He gives her a half smile before leaning back against the pillows. “I look forward to it.” 

—«·»—

Marinette tries to keep her mind focused solely on stretching.

It is not working.

Everyone else onstage seems to be fine, stretching on their own or with partners, listening to music, relaxing and enjoying the last few hours before the performance, running tricks and turns… She knows other people are feeling exactly what she is, but she can’t stop feeling incredibly alone. And also a little bit like she’s going to throw up.

Marinette closes her eyes and tries to focus mostly on her music. Usually before performances she likes to listen to the songs she’s dancing to, but she’s been listening to the dance playlist Alya made her since her and Adrien arrived at the theater.

She gets up mindlessly and follows the rest of the dancers off the stage when one of the teachers announces that select dances are going to do quick run throughs. When those dances are completed, the stage will be open for anyone to practice on if the space is there. They have three and a half hours until curtain and need to be dressed with hair and makeup complete half an hour before.

She finds herself sitting on the floor of her shared dressing room, surrounded by glittering costumes and makeup bags. The whole room smells like hairspray and anxiety. Lovely.

Chloé rolls her eyes and scoffs when she opens the dressing room door.

Marinette looks up at her with a flat expression. “Yes?”

Chloé grabs Marinette by the arm and hauls her to her feet. “Time to dance, princess,” she grumbles. “This isn’t flopping because of _you_ .” 

Marinette rolls her eyes and yanks her arm away, but follows Chloé out to the stage regardless. She wouldn’t stay back just to be petty. Besides, Chloé’s words don’t seem to hurt as much anymore. Not now that Chloé has gone past words. It’s almost as if Chloé has hurt her so bad in other ways that she no longer feels the little things any more.

Marinette joins Chloé centerstage and lets the music wash over her.

—«·»—

“Marinette, breathe.”

Marinette gasps, inhaling all the air she’d been keeping out. Adrien rubs his hands up and down her arms. She takes a shuddering breath and closes her eyes. Breathing. Right.   
  
“You’re going to do fine,” he promises. “You’re going to go onstage and you’re going to dance beautifully. _Brilliantly_. You’re going to give it your all and everyone will be able to see it. And they’ll love you.”

She closes her eyes and nods a few times. She bites down on her lip to stop it from trembling but she can’t do anything about the fact that her eyes are watering up and oh god she’s going to throw up or pass out or something and she can’t do this she doesn’t— 

“Hey, you’ll ruin your makeup,” Adrien teases softly.

Marinette forces a laugh. “Priorities,” she mutters.

“Definitely a priority, your makeup looks great and it took you forever.”

She takes a shaky breath before opening her eyes. “Adrien, I-I can’t—”

“You can.” He slides his hands down her arms to hold her hands. “Mar, you already _have_. And you did great.”

She glances over her shoulder to the stage where a small group is dancing. She had already been onstage. It had been a group dance. It had been fine. It had been…incredible. Probably should be considered life changing.

She feels numb. She feels like she’s going to fall over.

“It’s different,” she whispers.

“I know, but once you start dancing, you won’t even know they audience is there,” Adrien promises. He lifts their hands so their in line with her chest. “Squeeze.”

“I don’t want to break your hands,” she jokes weakly.

He raises an eyebrow. “Squeeze.”

Marinette takes a deep breath and squeezes his hands as hard as she can. She squeezes out the anxiety and the panic and all the negative thoughts her brain has spun up. She squeezes until her hands cramp. Then she lets go.

“Better?” Adrien asks.

She shakes her head. Yes. No. Neither. Both. She just feels _weird_. Wrong. But she knows she needs to get out on that stage.

He pulls her into a tight hug. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. “I believe in you.” He presses a kiss to the top her of her head and she has to resist the urge to bury her face in his chest. She has makeup on. She’ll ruin both it and his costume.

“Ready?” Adrien ask as he pulls away.

Marinette nods. “Ready.”

“I’m going to go find a better spot to watch, but break a leg.” Adrien squeezes her hand before letting go and walking away.

Marinette stays turned away from the stage. She makes sure her skirt is smooth — not that it’ll matter in a few minutes — and tries to stay calm.

She’s fine. She really is fine.

“Hey, Marinette,” a voice says softly. Marinette turns to see Chloé nearly hidden in the folds of the curtains. Chloé wraps her arms around herself. “I just wanted to say…break a leg.”

Marinette blinks in surprise as Chloé looks away. She didn’t think—

She doesn’t have time to mentally do anything other than gratefully accept Chloé’s well wishes.  

Marinette nods to Chloé, glancing towards the stage as the last notes of Aurore’s solo music waver. “Thank you,” she says sincerely before stepping into the wings.

Marinette slows her breathing. She closes her eyes and puts herself into the performance mindset, locking onto her solo and blocking out everything else, all thoughts, all emotions, all worries. She doesn’t process any of Aurore’s solo, she just notices the end and her cue to step out onto the stage.

At her cue, she gathers up her skirts in her arms and takes three steps out onto the stage. She lifts the armful of tulle and buries her face in it. The fabric scratches at her face but it keeps her from facing the reality of the dance.  

The music starts and Marinette loses herself.

She drops the fabric and pushes it away, walking forward slowly before sinking into a rond de jambe and kicking a leg out to the side. She knows this routine better than almost any other routine she’s danced in her entire life. It’s probably one of the most accurate representations of herself that she’s ever had.

She slowly rises up en pointe and lets herself perform. She tries to hold on to what Tikki had told her one night when she had been working herself to death, feet bruising and bleeding and no happier with the routine than she had been four hours before when she started dancing. There had been something that Marinette had been missing and she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“You’re cutting yourself off,” Tikki had said. “That’s no way to perform.”

Tikki had told her that dancing ballet doesn’t mean she has to cut herself off from the audience. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

Marinette knows she can’t match the skills of Chloé or even any of the other dancers here, who have had infinitely more training than her. But what she lacks in ability, she would make up in heart.

Ever since she was little, she’s been told to leave her soul on the stage. She always did her best to do so, but it was sometimes a hard thing to understand. She could work her hardest physically, but never understood how you just left your _soul_.

The dance is halfway over before she’s even began.

Marinette can feel the slight panic bubbling up inside of her that always comes around this point. Because she hasn’t shown _enough_. She hasn’t danced enough, she hasn’t given her heart and soul in the way that she’s supposed to.

The panic starts dissipate with the next assemblé.

The years of performance and hours of rehearsal have made it easier for her to shove that panic away. Her confidence feels back and unwavering when she lifts up to pointe for a grande battement and this isn’t really a smiling dance but she’s having a hard time keeping a straight face because despite all the anxiety she can’t help but feel like she’s finally breathing and finally living.

There’s a reason she loves performance. Hopefully the expression on her face comes off as more wistful than happy. As she spins away from the audience for a beat, she schools her face into something more serious.

She doesn’t think much before throwing the triple pirouette. She grabs at her skirts in the fourth rotation, straightening her leg outward at a ninety degree angle before dropping to the floor and catching herself on her hands. She breathes deep as she arches backward before rolling to stand.  

Tikki named the solo ‘Fly’. Marinette has never really been all that invested in naming her own dances. She has a hard time pinning down the dance into a name, or even just a sliver of the dance.

Ballet doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s _not_ perfect. It’s like any other type of dance with it’s long hours and sweaty rehearsals. That perfection that Marinette once thought existed is impossible to reach but all she can do is jump higher and higher— and she can take flight.

She breathes deep before launching into the turning sequence, spinning out of it into a calypso leap. She breathes slowly and smiles a little as she lands solidly and throws her skirt up down to float down around her.

She enjoys little moments like these in routines where she can take half a second to collect herself and breathe. She’s got the stamina for longer routines — she has to, especially having been an acro dancer — but a moment of peace is always nice.

 _Last leg_ , she thinks to herself as she kicks high. With barely any time in the dance left at all, she throws herself in completely— she’s allowed to collapse offstage. She scoops her arms and stretches as far as she can, pushing herself to her very limit. She’s overly aware of how hard the stage is below her feet when she lands her last jump.

Marinette pulls the front of her skirt up into her arms and buries her face into it as she walks backwards, dragging her feet in front of her against the floor. Her arms are shaking and it’s a good thing that her face is hidden from the audience as she gasps for air.

Someone in the audience cheers. People start clapping.

She retreats into the wings, clutching her skirts and trembling.

Dancers whisper ‘good job’ to her as they push into the wings for the next dance. She leans against the nearest stable thing — she thinks it’s a table but it’s dark and she’s drained and not entire sure — and catches her breath. She watches them dance through the wings, costumes sparkling under the lights.

Marinette gasps as she’s caught in someone’s arms and hugged tight.

“That was stunning, Mari,” Adrien murmurs into her hair. “ _You_ were stunning.” His voice is wavering.

“A-are—?” She pulls away and squints at him in the dark. “Are you crying?”

“Yes,” he says honestly. “Well, _no_ , I’m just tearing up. Because makeup. If I weren’t going on in three numbers I _would_ be full out crying.”

Marinette blinks away the tears welling up in her eyes and pulls Adrien into another tight hug. “Shut up,” she whispers.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” he says with a laugh. “The only time I’ve seen you dance better was with me.”

She scoffs and shoves him away, trying not to laugh. “Unbelievable.”

Adrien smiles brightly and she wonders if he knows how close to the truth he is. She never dances the same as she does when she dances with him.

“Where’s the best place to watch?” she asks quietly. She’s not missing out on his solo for the world.

He holds out his hand and she takes it without hesitation. “Come on,” he whispers, “I’ll show you.”

—«·»—

Marinette is squeezed between a few of the younger dancers in a small alcove that gives them an incredible view of the stage. It’s only accessible from a hallway backstage and is visible to very little of the audience, so Marinette can’t help but think whoever designed the theater must’ve known some of the cast and crew would be desperate to get a good look at what was happening while they were offstage.

Marinette’s breath catches in her throat when Adrien steps onto the stage.

It’s just not fair how handsome he is.

She’d seen him backstage with his hair slicked back in his all black costume and perfectly done makeup that showed off the fact that he has really incredible eyelashes. She’d seen him on Thursday in dress rehearsal, when his hair was a mess and his makeup was rushed but the costume fit just as well.

She hadn’t been able to see how he transformed when in front of an audience.

This is the Adrien Agreste she knows from videos and photoshoots. An untouchable dance legend from a family of ballet giants, all covered in a mask of gold and diamonds and perfection. She barely registers the music starting because she’s so mesmerized by _Adrien_.

He moves like water, his motions graceful and fluid. She sees his soul shine through him and _this_ is what everyone means by leaving your soul behind you on the stage. Adrien has it figured out and he’s shattering himself to let the world see.

Is the rest of the world aware of what a gift they’ve been given?

She doesn’t hold her breath this time when he throws his butterfly. He lands it solidly and flows into the next move with no hesitation and she can see the video in her mind of his father doing it. She covers her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

Watching Adrien has always been worth it. It’s always been breathtaking and jaw dropping. Watching him work so hard to get to what he performs is even better.  

Marinette doesn’t clap when the dance ends and Adrien hits his final pose, she _runs_.

She wiggles out from between the other dancers and bursts out of the alcove, darting out of the way of a few dancers on their way to watch. The boxes of her shoes hit the floor loudly as she runs, but she doesn’t care so long as she stays upright and moving.

She slows as she reaches backstage, crashing right into Adrien as he moves toward his dressing room.

He grabs her around the waist to keep her from falling and she catches herself with her hands on his chest.

“Hi,” he whispers with a crooked smile.

Her heart is beating a million times a minute and she can’t stop herself from laughing breathlessly. “Hi.”

“Good?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Perfect,” she insists. She cups his face in her hands and presses their foreheads together. “ _Perfect_.”

Adrien closes his eyes and smiles. “So, good?”

She shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous. _Yes_. Very good.”

He glances back on the stage. “You should get ready for your next dance,” he murmurs, stepping away. “You’ll need to be lined up in a few numbers.”

Marinette sighs. She would’ve been fine with standing here forever. “See you here for the duet?” They’ve both got dances before it, but they won’t be able to talk between any of them aside from a quick hushed ‘break a leg’ or ‘good job’.

Adrien nods. “See you then.”

She ducks past him and into the dressing room, thinking about how much she’d rather be in his arms than pulling on tights and changing her makeup.

Aurore finishes tying her shoes as Marinette opens the door and jumps to her feet, brushing past Marinette and whispering a hushed thank you as she rushes to join the rest of her small group on the other side of the stage. Marinette closes the door softly behind her and leans against the dressing room table and starts unlacing her shoes.

Chloé glances at her from where she stands in the corner getting ready for her own solo, draped in gold and gemstones. They hold eye contact for a moment before Chloé breaks it to fit another bobby pin in her hair. Marinette sighs and ignores her as she pulls off her costume to get ready for her next dance. She sits down on the floor to pull on her tights — it was weird not wearing tights with pointe shoes for her solo, but she thinks she liked it — and carefully checks them for runs before she pulls on the flowing dress. She steps out of the way as she reaches for her makeup box to let Chloé out of the room. She closes her eyes as her fingers wrap tightly around her lipstick. “Chloé,” she says, her voice sudden and incredibly loud.

Chloé tenses and moves her hand away from the doorknob. She looks over her shoulder at Marinette. “Yes?”

Marinette takes her in for a moment. Chloé sparkles and shines and looks like a painting. Empty. Flat. Marinette would give anything to have the technical background that Chloé has, if she’s being honest. Chloé does have a one up on her in that aspect. But Marinette would never want to be alone as Chloé seems to be. She gives Chloé the best and most honest smile she can manage. “Break a leg, you’re going to do great.”

Chloé returns the smile and Marinette thinks there might be a chance that it’s less perfectly crafted than usual. “Thanks,” Chloé says as she opens the dressing room door. Music flows in and the silence between them no longer feels so empty and strange. She looks like she might have something more to say, but Sabrina appears and drags her off to get ready. She looks back at Marinette and gives her another half smile.

It’s enough for now.

—«·»—

Marinette rolls out her ankles while she waits for Adrien. The anxiety is starting to bubble up in her chest, but it’s nothing like before her solo. Now she has the majority of her dances under her belt. She knows what the stage feels like beneath her feet for a real performance. She knows the heat of the lights and the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. And she knows Adrien.

“Sorry that took so long,” he whispers to her as he lifts his foot into passé before grabbing the arch of his foot and pulling his leg up to touch his ear.

“You did great,” she murmurs. She holds out a fist to him and he fist bumps it with his free hand. “We have two numbers.”

“Sounds good.”

Marinette does a backbend by the wall and is careful not to slip in her pointe shoes. Adrien offers her his hand and pulls her up to stand. They practice their trickiest lift once more when they have the space and then wait impatiently in the wings. At least, Marinette is impatient. She keeps her eyes off of the dancers onstage and focuses on the music in her head.

She looks up in surprise when Adrien takes her hand and squeezes it softly. He gives her a smile and mouths ‘break a leg’. They move further into the wings as the dancers onstage take their final pose.

She takes a shaky breath and nods. ‘You too’. She lets go of his hand and lets him step out before her when they’re cued. When he turns to face her, she steps out of the wings. The stare at each other until the music starts and Marinette melts into Adrien’s touch.

Marinette thinks that dancing with Adrien is the same as the feeling that the poets are always trying describe. The one songwriters sing about, what artists try to capture in their creations. It’s this indescribable feeling of _right_ . She’s never danced with any person or any group that makes her feel this way. She doesn’t think she’s ever _met_ someone that makes her feel this way.

Even as they move away from each other for separate parts of the dance, she knows his presence and his aura and knows his choreography so well she can see it in her mind. She knows the exact moment that they touch again, her skin tingling.

The lift is tricky, it’s scary. It had taken weeks for them to get it without spotting and even longer for them to do it consistently every single time. Her breath hitches when they start it, but she meets Adrien’s eyes and hears him say in her mind, ‘I won’t let you fall’. This time, the lift is as easy as breathing.

Her skirt wraps around her legs as she turns in the familiar way she knows from practice, fluttering around her before settling as there’s a pause in the choreography for her to breathe. She turns her head and keeps her neck long, seeing Adrien center stage as he leaps into the air and flies.

She takes a deep breath before plunging back into the dance, feeling the music deep in her bones as she lets it flow through her. Adrien’s hand is firm on her waist as he guides her into a simpler lift. Adrien smiles softly at her as they hold eye contact throughout it, and Marinette can’t help but smile back. She remembers one rehearsal where Plagg had shouted at them mid routine to feel the connection between them. She had instantly turned into a stuttering mess as Adrien blushed bright red.

The connection feels electric and she embraces it in full.

Whenever Marinette watched Tikki and Plagg perform this choreography, she always thought there was something genius about the way they’d set it up. The first half of the dance is very individual and could almost be done as a solo. Marinette had _done_ it as a solo, several times, in fact. She would turn on the music when alone and practice the first half on her own, needing no support from Adrien at all after the first two counts of eight.

But in the second half, it’s almost impossible to separate the two dancers. Like they’d become so tangled together that they were one person.

Marinette had always chalked it up to genius choreography.

As she arabesques away from Adrien and he reaches for her, one of the few moments of separation in the second half, she feels a pang in her chest and there’s a spark of realization as he pulls her back into his arms.

This dance would almost certainly fall to pieces without chemistry.

She holds her epiphany close to her heart for the last few counts of eight, wrapping herself in the familiar warmth of this dance, this choreography, this music She hadn’t realized how much she cherished it until this very moment, and it’s about to be gone.

Every dance is unique, it’ll never feel exactly like this again.

She barely notices the music coming to a close, focused completely on the steps and the performance. She knows the feeling of Adrien’s arm holding her steady and the strain of her muscles as she arches backward as far as she can, stretching herself to her limit.

The music ends and the world of this specific duet starts to fade away. She doesn’t know whether or not she should mourn.

Marinette meets Adrien’s eyes, breathless. He smiles down at her, dazzling and bright. His arm is tight around her waist and she can’t catch her breath. And it’s only partially because of the dancing.

The mascara makes his eyelashes incredibly long and his eyes seem so much greener under these hot stage lights. Each blemish and freckle is hidden by a layer of concealer, foundation, and powder. His eyebrows seem almost too dark, his features too perfect.

Her heart shudders when she realizes that she knows every line of his face. Even when they’ve all been erased and redrawn, she knows exactly what he should look like under that mask.

Applause. People are applauding. Adrien pulls her upright and she lowers down from pointe. He holds her hand as she curtsies, her heart in her throat, she can barely keep from laughing as it all bubbles up inside of her. She holds her right arm out as he bows. Then he takes her hand again and they bow once more before running off the stage. It takes all her control to run like a proper ballerina and not burst into a sprint.

What she wouldn’t give to be able to run through the streets of Paris laughing and holding Adrien’s hand right now.

Marinette can’t stop smiling as people congratulate them and Adrien weaves them through the crowd backstage. She thinks she thanks people, but she’s too caught up in the excitement and adrenaline to be truly present and grounded.

Adrien shuts the dressing room door behind them. She’s glad the room is empty because her emotions are threatening to overflow and she doesn’t know if she wants anyone but Adrien to see her turn into an mess. He turns to look at Marinette and she starts laughing. She laughs because she has no other way to let out all of this _emotion_. She throws her arms around his neck. “We did it!”

Adrien laughs as he hugs back her tightly, leaning backwards and lifting her feet off the ground. “We did it!” He spins them around once in the cramped dressing room before putting her down. Adrien smiles at her with sparkling eyes. The green of grass and leaves and life and everything that Marinette has ever wanted. Adrien is everything she’s ever wanted, all she’ll ever _want_.

The box of her shoes hit the floor and pull her back to reality.

A reality without Adrien Agreste is not what she wants. A reality where Adrien Agreste isn’t a major part of her day isn’t want she wants. Her ideal reality has Adrien Agreste as a constant, unwavering presence in her life. Someone she can love and who will love her in return. Who she can buy far too much Starbucks with and complain about rehearsal with and stay up until sunrise with. Somehow, in a single summer, Adrien has become someone that she always wants in her life. Someone she never wants to let go of. Ideally, she won’t have to.

Ideally—

Marinette doesn’t have to imagine some ideal situation. It’s right there, right in front of her, just a few inches away with a soft smile and bright green eyes.

This isn’t some cosmic story that’s written in the stars. It’s real, it’s tangible, and she has control over it. She has her feet on the ground and her arms around Adrien’s neck. He’s looking at her like she’s the sun and how she’s looking at him can’t be much different than that.

He’s the sun. He’s the moon and the stars and everything inbetween.

To hell with ideal, she wants reality.

Marinette realizes how small of a distance a few inches really is as she pulls Adrien down towards her and presses her lips firmly against his.

In the grand scheme of things, a few inches is nothing.

It doesn’t even take half a moment for Adrien to be kissing her back and Marinette can barely process the kiss because her mind is mostly a whirlwind of adrenaline and ‘oh my god I _kissed him_ ’.

Adrien deepens the kiss and their noses bump and she doesn’t care. All that Marinette knows is that his lips are soft and his hands are tight around her waist and she feels like she’s flying. She breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against Adrien’s, ready to touch the ground.

“Your makeup…” Adrien whispers.

Marinette opens her eyes. His eyes are closer than ever, green and welcoming and loving. “I had to fix it anyway,” she murmurs. Her next dance demands lighter lipstick. Her gaze drops to Adrien’s lips, she’s already aching to kiss him again. She laughs softly when she sees the lipstick smear on his lips. She moves her arms from around his neck and brushes her thumb against the lipstick mark. “You have some lipstick—”

Adrien leans into the touch as her hand cups his cheek. He turns his head and kisses the palm of her hand and the butterflies in Marinette’s stomach flutter in a way they never have before. “I needed to fix mine too.”

“Okay,” she says softly, not trusting her voice.

“I’ll see you for the production,” Adrien says and there’s no way she can wait that long. He seems to be thinking the same thing, because he leans forward and kisses her again, soft and slow.

Marinette keeps her eyes closed when he pulls away, only opening them when she hears the dressing room door open and close behind her.

Her legs feel like jello and her heart feels like it’s about to burst. She leans against the table and brushes her fingers against her lips. She would say that it was just the adrenaline or just that she kissed him first and he kissed her back as a reflex or out of courtesy or some other ridiculous excuse that her mind would dip into for an explanation.

But Adrien had _kissed her_.

He’d kissed her and he’d smiled at her and he’d _kissed her._

Marinette buries her face in her hands as her cheeks burn. One of her dressing roommates will be back soon and it’d probably be best if she wasn’t an emotional disaster when they came in, but she can’t stop smiling and she’s fairly certain she’s redder than her production costume.

She lifts her head from her hands and takes a deep breath. That happened. _That happened_. She sees herself in the mirror already blushing again.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she starts getting ready for her next dance. She wipes off the smeared lipstick with a makeup wipe and carefully reapplies foundation where she wiped it away before taking out the lighter lipliner and lipstick. It was just a kiss, she shouldn’t be getting so worked up about a kiss. Two kisses. From Adrien.

She caps the lipstick and puts it away before staring herself down in the mirror. She’s going to get through the rest of this showcase without overthinking this. She can overthink later.

When Rose opens the door to the dressing room, Marinette helps her with her quick change with a smile, but the butterflies are still fluttering in her stomach.

—«·»—

“Don’t screw this up,” Chloé mutters as they wait squished in the wings to go on for the production. With every dancer in the intensive making an appearance of some sort, it’s a bit cramped. Chloé raises a perfect eyebrow at Marinette. “Got it?”

Marinette shoots Chloé a half hearted glare. She knows Chloé means it, Marinette is as good as dead if she screws this up, but they’ve reached some sort of incredibly uneasy truce and she’s not going to fight it if they only have this one dance left. “I won’t if you don’t,” she says, testing the waters.

Chloé smirks, something dark in her eyes. More like competition than anger. It’s a look Marinette doesn’t think she’s seen before. “Good.” 

The music starts with the youngest dancers onstage and Chloé steps out right on cue. She’s no longer the worst part of Marinette’s summer or even an incredibly talented dancer with a mean streak that could kill. She’s just another dancer, contributing the same as any other dancer on the stage.

Marinette locks eyes with Adrien, who’s in the wing directly across the stage from her. He nods at her before he preps for a chaîné and leaps onstage.

One last dance.

Marinette closes her eyes and preps for her turn. The music swells and she spins up en pointe, leg bent back in attitude. She smiles to the audience as she arches away from them and falls into her role as perfectly as she can. She only has a few minutes left to show what she can do.

—«·»—

Marinette gets so caught up in the whirlwind of bows and backstage that she almost forgets to breathe. She doesn’t even get to go back to her dressing room, the crowd of dancers just moves her to the audience in full costume and pointe shoes.

She breaks away from the tide by the entrance to backstage, hearing shouts of congratulations from loved ones as dancers found them. She smiles to herself and hangs back for a moment, waiting for the crowd to thin out a little.

“Hey, kid.” Marinette turns around to see Plagg leaning against the wall. Tikki is standing next to him, absolutely beaming, and Wayzz is there, much to her surprise. Plagg pushes himself off the wall and sticks his hands in his pockets. He’s dressed nice for once, she’s pretty sure Tikki had something to do with that, and smirks before saying, “You did good.”

Marinette’s smile grows and she ducks her head. “Thanks.”

Tikki hurries forward and wraps Marinette up in a tight hug, albeit slightly awkward because of Marinette’s tutu. “Magical, Marinette,” Tikki says as she pulls away. “There isn’t a single person who wasn’t enchanted.”

Marinette doesn’t even know how to respond other than to laugh breathlessly and hug back when Tikki squeezes her in another hug.

Wayzz fiddles with his tie and gives Marinette a lopsided smile. “Maybe you just needed the right pair of shoes.”

Tikki gives him an offended look as Plagg laughs. Tikki rolls her eyes as she turns back to Marinette. “Those two,” she mutters. Marinette bites back a laugh. “Go,” Tikki says, motioning to the doors. “Go see your family, I’m sure they’ll want to congratulate you.”

Marinette takes a step towards the doors and a deep breath. “Thank you,” she says. It’s not enough, for any of them, but it’s all she has at the moment.

Tikki smiles, eyes sparkling with tears, “Thank _you_. Now go!”

Marinette opens the doors and is immediately swept up into a million conversations. People tell her how good she was and how much they enjoyed her performance as she weaves through the crowd and she smiles and nods and thanks them but can hardly processing all of the attention. Marinette doesn’t notice Alya until Alya throws her arms around her, hugging her tight and crying.

Marinette blinks in surprise. “Uh…” She pats Alya’s back and looks up to Nino, who waves. “Hey, Nino.”

“Hey! You killed it, dude. Super awesome.” He fits bumps her before putting a hand on Alya’s shoulder. “Al, you’re crying on her costume.”

Alya pulls away from Marinette and wipes away her tears. “You…” She points a finger at Marinette. Marinette tries to remember if she’s done something wrong before Alya smiles. “You _swore_ you’d tell me if you got a solo!”

 _Oh_. “Well… I wanted it to be a surprise,” Marinette admits.

“Was it!” Alya whacks Nino’s arm. “ _He_ wouldn’t let us see any programs! I should’ve _known_ something was up.” She hugs Marinette again, even tighter. “You’re the _worst_ . I hate you. You did _so good_ and I love you so much.”

Marinette hugs back and mouths ‘thank you’ to Nino. He winks and gives her a thumbs up. His eyes light up as he sees something over Marinette’s shoulder. “Dude!”

Adrien stumbles backward as Nino launches himself at him. “Whoa!”

“Someone new to cry on,” Alya says before letting Marinette out of her death grip and latching onto Adrien and Nino instead.

Adrien gives Marinette an awkward smile before Nino grabs Marinette and pulls her into the middle of the hug. She finds herself squished between Nino and Adrien, her face pressed against Adrien’s shoulder. She tenses and looks up at him, smiling awkwardly.

He returns the smile, his cheeks turning pink.

“You two did so good,” Alya says. “It’s not fair. Gorgeous and talented? Leave something for the rest of us.”

“True that,” Nino agrees. He’s as stuck in this hug as Adrien and Marinette are. Marinette isn’t exactly sure how Alya is holding them all in. Nino wriggles an arm free and ruffles Adrien’s hair. “One of your best, bro. You’ve never looked better.”

Marinette bites back a laugh. The gel in Adrien’s hair means that it’s staying a ruffled mess. Nino smirks and ruffles it again, messing it up even more.

“Is our Marinette in there somewhere?”

Marinette gasps and ducks out from Alya’s arms and runs right into her father’s. “Maman! Papa!” Being wrapped up in their arms feels safe and warm and like home— her father still smells like freshly baked bread, so that’s definitely helping.

“You were beautiful, ma chérie,” Sabine says as she pulls away. “I’ve never seen you dance like that before.”

Marinette hugs Sabine again. “Thank you, Maman, I loved it.” Speaking of loved… “You’ve already met, Nino, right?”

“He hid the programs from us,” Tom says, raising an eyebrow.

Nino rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Just doing a friend a favor.”

Marinette shakes her head. “Anyway, this is Adrien.”

Alya tugs Adrien forward. He lifts a hand in an awkward greeting. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“We’ve heard so much about you!” Sabine says with a bright smile.

Marinette groans and buries her face in her hands. She forgot about that. “Maman _please_.”

“You have?” Adrien asks in surprise.

Nino snorts.

“You did great,” Tom says, putting a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “Your father should be proud.”

Adrien barely nods, staring at Tom almost in awe. Marinette wants to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that _this_ is what family is supposed to be like.

Alya clears her throat. “Speaking of fathers…”

Adrien tenses, eyes wide.

She elbows him lightly. “Nathalie said she’d meet you in your dressing room before the closing speech thing. I’m not sure how she knows where that is—”

“She’s _scary_ , that’s how,” Nino interrupts. “That women knows _all_ .” 

Alya rolls her eyes. “Anyway, she asked me to let you know.”

A look crosses over Adrien’s face. “I’ll see you for the close,” he murmurs to Marinette, squeezing her hand as he passes by. She looks over her shoulder to watch him disappear into the crowd of families and dancers.

“He seems like a good kid,” Tom says.

Marinette finds the floor fascinating.

“A good kid…” Alya murmurs. “Be right back.” She darts into the crowd and and is quickly swallowed by it.

“Should we be concerned?” Nino asks Marinette.

She nods. “Very.”

—«·»—

Sabrina is leaving the dressing room as Marinette heads back to get changed. She loves her costume, but the bodice is starting to dig into her sides and she’d love to go to close of the intensive in comfortable sweatpants.

“You did great, by the way,” Sabrina says breathlessly, catching Marinette by surprise. “Like, really _really_ good.”

“Oh, thank you. You did too, your small group was incredible.”

Sabrina turns pink. “It was nothing. Oh! Chloé is in there so,” she shrugs before heading toward the stage door.

Marinette nods slowly before opening the dressing room door.

She’s surprised by how quickly it’s been cleared out. She’d seen Aurore as she had been wandering around looking for her parents and friends and Aurore had somehow managed to pack everything up and change before getting swept up by the excitement. Rose looks up from her makeup case and smiles brightly, hanging her costume bags over her arm before she leaves the room. 

And then there were two.

Marinette shakes her hair out of the bun but kept in in a ponytail. It’s awkward enough, curled stiff with hairspray, and taking it down would just be worse. She’d rather wait until she can wash all the gunk out of her hair before trying to take out anything else. She pulls off her fake eyelashes and trashes them before scrubbing the rest of the makeup off her face with far too many makeup wipes. She sits on the floor as she carefully unties her pointe shoes. Despite only having used them in this one showcase, they are broken in to a point close to ruin. She remembers Tikki joking about how ballerinas go through pointe shoes like they are made of paper. Tikki wasn’t wrong.

Marinette sighs in relief when she finally gets out of her costume and into sweats. She no longer feels like she has to be a perfect statue of elegance. She can slouch. Thank god.

“We have to go,” Chloé says suddenly.

Marinette looks up from where she’s organizing her makeup. “Oh.”

Chloé tosses her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder. She has no idea how Chloé got it so perfect so fast. “Clean up later, they won’t wait for you.” Chloé throws open the door. “Sorry,” she says tightly, “by the way.” And then she’s vanished into the darkness of backstage, her heels clicking against the floor.

Marinette swallows before following her. Okay. In part, she’s relieved that she didn’t have to accept Chloé’s apology, because she doesn’t know if she’d be able to. On the other hand… She’ll deal with it if they have to work together again.

For now, she can let go.

—«·»—

The theater’s seats aren’t the most comfortable in the world, but Marinette’s feet hurt and her entire body aches, so it feels nice to just curl up and rest her head on Adrien’s shoulder as the teachers talk. He plays with her hair mindlessly as they talk about the summer and the showcase and everything everyone accomplished over ten weeks. She can feel a lump of emotion in her throat and she tries to swallow it back. If she starts crying, she’ll probably never stop.

Trixx motions to Wayzz and he steps foward, glasses and smile crooked. “You’re probably wondering why I’m up here,” he says, gesturing to the others and yes, Marinette was wondering that. “Really, I just have friends with connections.” Plagg snorts and Tikki shoots him a look. Wayzz shakes his head. “My name is Wayzz. I don’t teach, I’m not very good at that, but I do work in the shoe room for a ballet company. And I know ballet, I know it well.” He adjusts his glasses. “I’ve been lucky enough to see how some of you have progressed since you were first offered a place in the program, and the leaps and bounds you’ve all made— truly, truly inspiring.”

Marinette sits up, eyes wide. 

“You okay?” Adrien whispers.

She nods wordlessly, staring at Wayzz. He’s still talking, but the words are no longer processing. He smiles and it’s like he’s smiling right at her. If she imagines him with his hair combed back and neat, wearing contacts instead of glasses, dressed in an out of place suit— 

“If you keep working as hard as you have, I have no doubt that you could all end up in a company like mine,” Wayzz says, “regardless of what opportunities you may or may not have had growing up. With the opportunity you were all given over the past ten weeks, you’ve all been able to truly shine.”

Marinette sinks back in her seat as Wayzz steps back and everyone applauds.

Adrien leans over. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Marinette promises, pulling her gaze away from Wayzz to focus on Plagg. “I thought I knew him from somewhere.” She remembers shaking his hand and thanking him calmly before calling Alya and screaming.  _A scholarship._  

“Alright, kids.” Plagg steps forward to center stage. “I know you and your parents want to get out of here soon, so it’s a good thing I don’t do speeches.”

Adrien scoffs.

“But hey, you all crushed it tonight, so pat on the back for that. I told you the fondues would pay off.” There are scattered groans through the audience. Adrien is one of them. Plagg smirks. “I’m going to pass off my nostalgic mush to Tikki, seeing how that’s her thing, but keep fonduing, it’ll get you places eventually.”

Tikki clasps her hands together. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that it has been a true _honor_ to teach you all. One of the greatest parts of teaching is being able to see your students grow and we have seen you grow into dancers that we may very well be sharing a stage with in the near future.

“Ten weeks isn’t long but at the same time, it’s impossibly long. It’s the blink of an eye and an entire summer. Tiny steps lead to big leaps, you just have to keep working. What you go back to tomorrow might not be this extreme; you may have shorter hours and fewer classes, but that doesn’t mean you should stop working as hard as you have been.

“Whether or not you choose to continue dancing, whether or not this is going to be part of your future, you learned a lot this summer, more than you may realize. You’ve made friends and you’ve made connections. You’re only on the brink of what you can truly do and achieve. And we are so thankful to have been able to help you find your way just a little bit more. A little guidance can go a long way and you should be proud of yourselves for how much you’ve learned, because we wouldn't have been able to help you if you didn’t want to learn.

“Take what you’ve learned this summer and apply it to the life you choose to lead, whatever that may mean for you. Some will take more than others. Maybe all you learned from this summer was that you’re a terrible roommate—” A few people laugh and others agree. “—and while I doubt any of you learned so little, it’s still better than nothing. It got you out of the house didn’t it?”

Adrien hides his face in the crook of his arm to muffle his laugh.

“Dance is hard, ballet is hard. It takes so much work to make it look elegant and graceful and effortless. And despite how hard it is, you all did it wonderfully tonight. The performance you put on was _magical_ and the talent that crossed this stage was unbelievable. You’ve all overcome so many boundaries — physical, mental, and otherwise — this summer and we are all so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished.

“If you’re leaving tonight, make sure you have everything you brought and stay safe on your way home. To those leaving tomorrow, we have to be out of the rooms by ten so they can clean. If you have any studio keys you have to return, both Plagg and I will be there until around eleven. We hope that you’ll consider joining us again next summer, so you can improve even more. And to those of you who are graduating this year, wherever you go, whatever path you may choose, we wish you the absolute best.”

—«·»—

Marinette is packing up the last of her costumes when there’s a soft knock on the dressing room door. She zips up the costume bag as she says, “Come in!”

Tikki opens the door and smiles. “We’re on our way out.”

“Oh!” Marinette reaches for her makeup box. “Sorry for taking so long I can—” 

“It’s fine,” Plagg interrupts. “Sheesh, breathe a little.”

Tikki holds out a key. Marinette hesitates before taking it. “All the lights are off but the stage ones and Adrien knows how those work, him and Plagg were fooling around with them after dress rehearsal.” She shoots Plagg a look, but he just shrugs. She rolls her eyes. “Just lock up and you can give us the key tomorrow with your studio key. Don’t worry about anything else, we have to be back here anyway to clean up some things and return the keys.”

“I can help before my train leaves,” Marinette says. “If you need it. With cleaning up and all that.”

Plagg closes her hand around the key. “We’ve got it. We get paid for stuff like this. You don’t.”

“Just make sure he gets home at a reasonable hour,” Tikki says, motioning behind her. “He’s on the stage. He always likes to have some time to himself after performances.”

Marinette squeezes the key, the edges of it biting into her skin. “Yeah, of course.”

Plagg smirks. “No funny business,” he says, draping an arm around Tikki’s shoulder.

Marinette flushes. “W-we— I—”

Tikki gives him a flat look. “Leave her alone, Plagg. You’re fine,” she promises Marinette. “Don’t stay too long. Sleep well.”

Marinette nods and watches them leave. It takes her a moment to collect herself and then another moment to collect all her things. She studies the now empty dressing room and wonders how not even an hour ago it was filled with costumes and people and life.

She shakes off the feeling and shuts the door behind her.

Marinette puts her stuff down and watches Adrien for a few minutes from the wings. He’s not dancing so much as just going through motions and wandering around the stage with a distant expression on his face. It takes her an almost embarrassingly long time to recognize that he’s mostly just moving through the variation from the Bluebird pas de deux. He drags his toe on the stage in a slow compass turn, freezing when he sees her in the wings.

She holds up the key. “Tikki told me to lock up when you finished.”

“Right,” Adrien says softly. “I’ll be done in a minute, just…” He finishes the turn and stands in third position for a long moment before doing a pas de cheval tombé. He preps for a pirouette and does an easy double.  

“We don’t have to leave now.” She puts the key down on top of her costume bags. “I can wait.” She toes off her shoes and joins him onstage. It’s strange feeling Marley under her bare feet again.

Adrien faces the audience head on. Marinette gazes out into the darkened rows and rows of empty seats. “It’s weird,” he says, “to think that this place was full of people an hour ago. And now it’s so empty and alone.”

“We’re here,” Marinette points out.

Adrien smiles at her. “We are, aren’t we?” His eyes widen. “Hold on.” He runs across the stage, disappearing into the wings.

An empty stage and theater is significantly lonelier and creepier if you’re by yourself, Marinette notes.

“Hey, Mari.” Adrien enters from the other side of the stage, holding something behind his back. “These are for you.” Marinette’s eyes go wide as he holds out a bouquet of red roses to her.

“Y-you didn’t have to,” she stutters as she takes them. Alya had told her flower language once, but she doesn’t remember any of it, she’s too focused on the fact that Adrien got her _flowers_. “You really didn’t.”

“I wanted to,” he promises. He blushes a little. “I wanted to thank you for…being you.” 

She wants to protest that isn’t doing anything, certainly nothing to deserve flowers. Her parents always get her flowers after performances, they’ll sit on the counter in a vase until they start to wilt and then she’ll press them in a book to keep forever. She doesn’t think these are the same kind of post show flowers. “You should’ve told me, I would’ve gotten you flowers too. I didn’t get you anything.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You got me roses,” Marinette whispers.

“And you gave me friendship,” Adrien says honestly.

She resists the urge to hide her face in the roses. “That is _so cheesy_ ,” she mumbles.

“I’m a cheesy person,” he admits. “But you knew that. And…maybe, you wouldn’t mind going out on a cheesy date with a cheesy guy?”

Marinette lowers her flowers and stares at him. Her mind has gone almost completely blank, like some sort of factory reset. She has to run through the words a few times to make sure she actually heard him correctly. “Adrien Agreste that was the lamest way you could’ve asked me out,” she says, her voice surprisingly steady because she honestly thinks her legs are going to give out on her.  

He smiles goofily and shrugs. “Did you ever think I was cool?”

“About ten weeks ago I did.”

He laughs. “Is that a yes?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

Marinette smiles down at the flowers before rising up a on her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Of _course_ it’s a yes.” Adrien lights up like the sun and her heart flips. “To quote Alya, we were practically dating anyway.”

Adrien snorts. “Her too? Nino’s been bugging me about it for weeks.”

Careful of her roses, Marinette wraps her arms around Adrien’s neck. “I think they _may_ have bonded over trying to get us together.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You think?”

She hums. Their noses brush as she tilts her head. “Maybe a little.”

“We should probably tell them at some point,” Adrien murmurs, just a breath away from her lips. “They probably have a party to throw. Bets to exchange.”

“They can wait.”

* * *

Marinette wakes up far too late.

For most people, it’s not late at all. Eight thirty on a Sunday morning? Back to bed. At home, Marinette is up as soon as her parents start baking. For the past few weeks, Marinette has gotten up whenever Adrien does and she doesn’t know if that boy knows what sleeping in even means.

It’s strange to find the bed next to her empty.

She sits up with a groan, aching all over and knowing that she needs to stretch before she gets on a train and sits for several hours but not really wanting to. The perfect day would actually be not moving period, but that’s not going to happen.

She gives herself a few minutes to wake up before she gets out of bed and pads to the bathroom, relieved to see that her hair is only a minor disaster and that there’s no makeup smudged all over her face. She did her best last night, but she still sometimes wakes up after competitions looking like a racoon. There’s only so much you can do to take makeup off once you’ve applied several pounds of it.

Adrien’s things have already been moved out of the room. Marinette packs at a fairly leisurely pace, listening to music on her phone and scrolling through notifications she’d missed last night. She has hours until she has to make her train, she’ll be fine.

She sits back on her heels and closes her eyes, remembering how Adrien’s lips felt against hers and kissing him until she was breathless. It’s kind of hard to believe that it’s not all a dream, but it also feels like the most natural thing in the world.

It’s a little bit of a struggle to get all of her things together, but she manages. She checks the room once more before shutting the door behind her and hearing the finalizing click.

Marinette returns her room key and drops her stuff off at the studio before making a quick Starbucks run. She needs something to eat that isn’t healthy and she’s pretty sure Adrien stole the rest of the granola bars anyway.

Tikki is sitting on the desk while Plagg spins lazy circles in the chair when Marinette returns with drinks. Tikki looks up from her phone with a smile. “Figured you’d be back soon.”

Plagg scoffs. “Like she was going to leave all her stuff here.”

Marinette puts down her hot chocolate and pulls out the keys to the studio and theater. “Thank you for…everything.”

Tikki grins brightly as she tosses the theater key to Plagg. “You’re welcome, and thank you too. You’re welcome to leave your stuff out here.”

Plagg nods toward the studios. “He’s in his usual room.”

“And we’ll be here as long as you’d like.” Tikki winks.

Marinette tucks her hair behind her ear and glances toward the door. “Right. I’m just going to…” 

“Go be sappy teenagers!” Plagg says, shooing her away. “You’re making me sick.”

Tikki laughs as Marinette walks over to the studio door. “Like we weren’t sappy teenagers once,” Tikki teases.

Marinette knocks on the door softly before she opens it. She’s not really looking for a response, she knows she’s welcome, she’s more of giving a warning. Snapping him out of his thoughts.

Adrien is doing lazy pencil turns to gentle lyrical music when she opens the door. His face is red and his shirt is disheveled and there’s a pile of luggage in the corner by the stereo. He winks at her the next time he makes a rotation. He poses dramatically as she closes the door before meeting her halfway.

“You were up early,” Marinette says, holding out his drink. “And you were quiet.”

He smiles gratefully before taking it. “I didn’t want to wake you, you looked exhausted last night.”

She shrugs and leans against the barre as he drinks, wrapping both her hands around her hot chocolate. “Performances wipe me out. It’s probably because I psych myself out so much beforehand.”

Adrien nods. “I used to do that too.”

“Got used to it?”

“Had to,” he points out. “If you have a performance every night for a week, you don’t have a chance to be tired. Mostly I just napped a lot until I was able to run on what’s essentially pure willpower.”

Marinette groans. “I like sleep too much for that.”

“Well, you can’t have dance, sleep, and a social life. You have to choose.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “You have a social life?”

Adrien sticks his tongue out at her as she lifts her cup to her mouth with raised eyebrows. “Um, excuse me, _I_ have a girlfriend.”

Marinette feels a blush creeping up her cheeks. She tries to keep the butterflies in her stomach still, but it’s far _far_ too new for her not to freak out just a little bit. “Is she pretty?” she asks playfully.

“Gorgeous,” Adrien says with twinkling eyes.

“Bet she’s a better dancer than you.” 

“You’d be right.”

She gives him a flat look. “Okay, _no_. So not true.”

Adrien shakes he head. “No, I still can’t do a body roll right, so… I think you win this round.”

“I think you’re biased,” Marinette counters.

“Mm… Yeah, probably. But not in this case.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you love me anyway,” Adrien teases, putting down his drink next to the stereo. He reaches out to take Marinette’s.

“Yes. Yes I do,” she says as she passes her drink off, their hands brushing.

Adrien pauses, eyes wide. He smiles slowly. “Well that’s good. Because I love you too.”

Marinette covers her mouth with her hand to hide her own smile.

“Too soon?” he asks. He takes her other hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

“We haven’t even gone on a real date yet,” she points out.

Adrien hums thoughtfully. “Can we consider _this_ our first date?” he asks, motioning to the room.

Marinette nods slowly. “Starbucks and dancing. The only two things we seem to do.”

“We _also_ watch bad movies,” Adrien adds. “And Disney classics.”

“Three things then.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, two out of three seems pretty good. Sounds like a decent first date to me.” He offers Marinette his hand with a small bow. “What’d you think?”

She curtsies before taking it. “It sounds perfect.”

“Do you waltz, my Lady?” Adrien asks, pulling her into closed position. He starts waltzing before she can even answer.

“Not really, but you seem to waltz just fine, despite this song not being a waltz,” Marinette teases.

“You’re so picky.” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against hers and closing his eyes.

“Mm, well, someone needs to teach you to count music. Can you not hear the downbeat?” she teases.

Adrien stares at her with glittering green eyes. “Will you help me find it?” he asks softly.

Marinette smiles before taking lead. “One,” she says with the next step. She moves out of closed position as she pulls Adrien in a slow circle, counting the downbeat aloud whenever they reach it. He sings along to the music softly, and she thinks that she could stay here forever in this empty studio with nothing but Adrien and gentle music. It doesn’t take long before they’re giggling and improvising poorly while holding hands, completely entangled in one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right so... _this_ is now my longest post ever. 
> 
> Mari and Adrien being invested in cheesy romcom movies is totally based off myself. I would recommend High Strung tbh. Emo violinist and special snowflake ballerina. Super predictable and ridiculous and I ranted throughout the whole thing, but I still liked it? 
> 
> I dropped a lot of little ballet moves that aren't really important into this chapter, but here are some that are more relevant than others:  
> [grande jeté](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHivyA_fwpA)  
> [pas de chat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAsMB3eRe6g)  
> grande battement - a kick. that's it, really  
> [ a calypso leap (this kid is precious btw and its also the shortest video i could find quickly)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOonYDLgxgM)  
> [attitude](http://vitalityballet.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/attitude-derriere-2.jpg)  
> [the butterfly jump is the first one in this video](https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2014/04/16/the-washington-ballets-hardest-dance-moves-dissected-video/?utm_term=.b23bf6e58dad)
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://sadrien.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) if you'd like to cry with me~
> 
> One final shoutout to Starbucks. Thank you for strangely becoming an integral part of this story. I had a strawberry acai today and I genuinely almost started crying.


	14. encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> encore (n.) - french, a repeated or additional performance of an item at the end of a concert, as called for by an audience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise? 
> 
> so backstory time. when i was writing i think ch11 i came up with this scene with alya and adrien for ch13. but mari wasn't there. i considered having her listen in but didn't like it, then considered tossing ch13 back and forth between adrien and mari and didn't like how that so suddenly changed the pattern. and then i kept thinking... and i had more i wanted to say
> 
> this chapter adds nothing new to the plot. it makes a few clarifications to ch13 (most of which people have already asked about, very observant) but the plot of this story is finished. if you don't want to read it, nothing will change (takes place a few months after ch13)
> 
> also? it's tangled ribbons' one year anniversary. thank you to everyone who stuck with it and was so incredibly supportive
> 
> so here we are. back again for one finally hurrah, one final encore, and one final bow
> 
> i hope you enjoy

**_encore (n.)_ ** _\- french, a repeated or additional performance of an item at the end of a concert, as called for by an audience_

* * *

Adrien squeezes his way through all the parents and loved ones and dancers covered in makeup and sweat. He hadn’t actually expected Nathalie to stay longer than expected so this is—

He doesn’t want to keep Nathalie waiting.

Plagg gives him a small salute as he finally gets through the crowd and backstage. Adrien would ask how Nathalie was even allowed backstage, but restrictions like those don’t seem to exist for her. She’s always able to get backstage if she needs to.

“She’s in your dressing room,” Tikki says without being prompted. “She hasn’t been there long, don’t worry.” She ruffles Adrien’s hair as he passes.

Adrien bats her hand away and smooths his hair back down, knowing that whatever gel is left in it has probably left it looking like a particularly inventive hairstyle. He shoots Tikki a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Break a leg,” Plagg teases as Adrien turns down the hall.

Nathalie is standing in the doorway of his dressing room, straight backed and tapping away on her tablet. She’s so incredibly out of place, it’s almost as if she were copied and pasted directly from her office into the theater.

She barely glances up as Adrien passes her to get into the dressing room. “Adrien,” she says, voice steady and emotionless as usual.

“Hey, Nat,” he replies, not bothering to keep the smile off his face as he sits down in the one chair him and his dressing roommates had snagged for the center of the room. He notices the flowers laying on the dressing room table and brushes his fingers against a lily petal. “Thanks for coming.”

“You did wonderfully,” Nathalie says. Her voice stays the same, but the corners of her lips lift just the slightest, like the ghost of a smile. “A summer well spent, I would think.”

“Absolutely,” Adrien agrees. “I’m glad you enjoyed the performance.”

Alya appears in the doorway next to Nathalie and raises a hand in greeting. She leans against the doorway and types quickly on her phone.

Nathalie lowers her tablet, glancing to Alya before her eyes settle back on Adrien. “Your father was here.”

He stares at her. “What?”

She nods shortly. “He had to leave once you finished performing, but he did see you dance and offered his congratulations.”

Adrien swallows thickly. “He— he was?”

“Yes, and your friend got plenty of pictures.”

He looks to Alya.

Alya scoffs and puts her phone down. “Okay, fine, it was me but you don’t need to call me out like this.”

Nathalie raises an eyebrow.

Alya looks away. “I just wanted some proof that he was actually here. In case Adrien wanted to see. He wouldn’t have been able to see his dad from the stage.”

Adrien feels a burst of warmth in his chest. “Thanks, Al,” he murmurs, not looking to Nathalie. He’s not sure if she’s wearing her disappointed look, she isn’t a fan of unauthorized photographs, but if she is, he doesn’t want to see it.

“The car will pick you up tomorrow as soon as you call,” Nathalie says stiffly. “Earlier rather than later.”

Adrien thinks of a car and home he hasn’t been in in ten weeks. He doesn’t miss them much at all. “Of course.”

Nathalie gives him a long look before stepping back. “I’ll see you then,” she says before vanishing into the darkness of backstage.

Adrien turns to Alya. “You were taking pictures of my dad?”

She shrugs. “I’ll admit it was probably a little creepy, but like I said, I wanted proof for you. Just in case. But,” she steps into the dressing room, “that’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here then?”

Alya crosses her arms. “I’m not letting you leave this building until you ask Marinette Dupain-Cheng out on a legitimate date.”

Adrien glances to the flowers on the table, the bouquet of red roses sitting behind the one of lilies and orchids. “I’m two steps ahead of you.”

* * *

A bell rings as he pushes the door open. He takes in the small shop with a smile as he approaches the counter.

“Hi, how may I help you to—” she turns around and freezes. “To…day…” Marinette stares at him. “Adrien?”

He smiles and puts his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Hi, I was told I just _had_ to try the chocolate croissants here?” She ducks her head to hide a smile. “It was a date.”

When Marinette looks up at him again, her face is the perfect mask of a costumer service worker, with the exception of the twinkle in her eyes. “Just one?”

“For now.”

It only takes Marinette a few seconds to hand him a bag with the bakery logo stamped on the side. She smiles like the sun and it makes his heart do funny things.

“How much?” Adrien asks as he takes the bag, letting his fingers brush against Marinette’s for longer than necessary.

Marinette smirks, her cheeks turning pink. “One kiss.”

“A steal,” Adrien murmurs. He leans against the counter and kisses her softly, feeling her grin against his lips.

She laughs breathlessly when she pulls away. “Hi.”

He presses his nose against hers. “Hey.”

Behind her, Alya clears her throat loudly.

Marinette jumps away from Adrien, blushing profusely. “Alya!”

Alya smirks. “Hey, girl. Marshmallow.”

Adrien raises his hand and the pastry bag in greeting.

“Give me two min—”

Alya interrupts Marinette by spinning her away from the counter. She pulls at the ties of Marinette’s apron. “You, missy, are on break.”

“But—”

“Captain’s orders,” Alya says with a click of her tongue. She tugs Marinette’s apron off and ties it around her own waist.

Marinette glances back over her shoulder at Adrien. He shoots her a fond smile. “How did you even know to come here?” she asks Alya. “Isn’t it your day off?”

Alya rolls her eyes and takes the ribbons out of Marinette’s hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. “You say that like your parents and I didn’t know.” Alya winks at Adrien before spinning Marinette back around and swatting her out from behind the counter.

“But I—”

Alya gives her one last shove. “Go date your boyfriend. I’m sure he wants more time with you than just a quick kiss over the counter.”

Marinette glances over to Adrien, cheeks pink.

He smiles and holds his hand out to her, wiggling his fingers.

“I’ll be back later,” Marinette promises to Alya as she takes his hand.

“I can’t hear you,” Alya says, turning away from them. “What was that? The wind?”

Adrien laughs. “Come on, I want you to show me around while I eat.”

He eats his croissant slowly as Marinette leads him through the streets of her town. She peppers the sidewalks with stories, showing him all the secrets that you only learn by spending your entire life in one place. She points out her favorite spots, weaving the past with the present, directing him through shortcuts and winding alleyways.

He’ll remember very few of the actual street names and businesses, but he’ll never forget the stories from her childhood and the feeling of her hand in his.

He offers her the last of the croissant and she takes it with a brilliant smile. “Better than Starbucks?” she asks.

“Starbucks?” Adrien asks innocently. “What’s that?”

Marinette laughs and leans against his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay with just wandering around?”

“Of course I am,” Adrien promises. “As long as I get to spend time with you, I’m happy.”

She groans and presses her face against his arm. “Oh my god you aren’t allowed to _say things like that_.”

“Nice weather we’re having,” he tries instead.

Marinette pulls away to look up at the sky. They both stop in their tracks as they take in the light gray clouds hiding the sun. She raises her eyebrows at him. “Yeah, it’s lovely.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “I’m doing my best. Alright, how are you?”

“You asked me that like two hours ago,” she points out as she leads him across the street to a park she’d mentioned earlier.

“It feels different asking in person than over text,” he admits. He ducks under a low hanging branch and follows Marinette to a bench.

She leans against the back of it instead of sitting down on it. “Okay, well, I’m doing better than the last time you asked.”

Adrien tilts his head. “Hmm, I wonder why.”

Marinette buries her face in her hands. “Oh my god shut up,” she mumbles.

He wraps an arm around her and leans against the bench. “You know you love me.”

She lifts her head from her hands. “The question is _why_.”

“I ask myself that constantly.”

Marinette shoves him lightly. “You took a five hour train ride just to come see me, you kept it a surprise but told my parents and best friend so I could have the rest of the day off of work, you’ve bought me _so_ many gifts. And that’s not even talking about who you are, just what you _do_. You do too much for me.”

Adrien takes her hand and entwines their fingers. “And you’re too good for me.”

She scoffs. “That’s not true.”

“Then we know both those statements are false. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I would buy you the moon.”

She smiles up at him, eyes soft and sparkling. “Unfortunately, I can’t afford to buy you the moon, but I might be able to swing a star.”

It takes him a second to recover, because his heart is never really prepared for Marinette to stay stuff like that to him.  “And _I’m_ the one who has to stop?”

“You are _significantly_ worse than me,” Marinette says.

Adrien glances up at the darken sky as he tries to think of something to say and frowns. “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Marinette follows his gaze. “I think I have to agree with you,” she says. “But, we’ve gotten caught in the rain before,” she says with a shrug, “We’ll be fine. I can teach you how to make the best soup for colds and we can sit on the couch and watch Studio Ghibli movies.” She looks away. “I-I mean, I just _assumed_ you’re staying for the weekend, but—”

He kisses the back of her hand. “My Lady, my weekend is yours.”

Marinette turns pink and laughs. “How’d you manage that?”

“Nathalie. She thinks I need a break.” Adrien doesn’t agree, he’s getting enough sleep and has plenty of free time, but he knows his friends won’t agree and he can’t complain about getting to spend more time with his girlfriend. _Girlfriend_. He still gets butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about it sometimes.

“I knew there was a reason I liked her,” Marinette muses.

Adrien scoffs. “You met her _once_. For like thirty seconds. I don’t even think you said anything to each other.”

“She makes sure you don’t work yourself to death.” Marinette raises an eyebrow. “I like her.”

Adrien holds up his hands in protest. “I can take care of myself!”

“ _Sure_ you can. Speaking about leaving you on your own—” Adrien shoots her a confused looks. “I have dance tomorrow morning, so I have to abandon you.”

He waves a hand. “It’s okay, I’ve already got a plan for that.”

“Do you?” Marinette crosses her arms.

“I’ll go with you.”

Her eyes go wide for a moment before she snorts and starts laughing. “You want the preteens to be even _worse_ than usual?” she asks between her laughter. “You’d literally be _swarmed_.”

Adrien smiles, “As appealing as that sounds, I’m good. Alya actually wants to steal me for a few hours and I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Marinette narrows her eyes at him. “If she tells you embarrassing stories about me, I’ll kill her, but yes, I’m totally fine with that. It’s not like I’d be very entertaining while in dance class.”

“You know I love watching you dance.” She scoffs. “Maybe Alya and I will show up in super conspicuous disguises,” he muses.

Marinette groans. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Long trench coats and fedoras and sunglasses and newspapers.”

“I hate you,” she grumbles.

“No you don’t.”

“Unfortunately.”

Adrien snorts. “Anyway, how _is_ dance going?”

She eyes him. “I should be asking you the same question. _Someone’s_ been very quiet on his end.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah… I asked first, I promise I’ll answer after?”

Marinette shakes her head, but goes anyway. “It’s pretty good. Finally getting back into the swing of things after this summer. I’ve been taking lots of extra studio time to practice pointe on my own, which you _know_ ,” she says pointedly. Adrien nods dutifully. “I’m kind of freaked out about everything post graduation but…for now I’m just trying to get to that point, you know?” She rolls her eyes. “I mean you _don’t_ but just agree with me for conversation’s sake?”

“Of course. You’re going to be _fine_ ,” he insists. He takes her hand and squeezes it softly. “You’re an incredible dancer. Companies should be fighting over you.”

“Like they are over you?” Marinette teases.

Adrien groans and slides down the back of the bench, sitting on the slightly damp grass. “Please don’t remind me.”

She laughs before she joins him on the ground. “Haven’t decided yet?” 

He leans forward and rests his hand on her shoulder. “Not really,” he murmurs. “That’s…a really big choice.”

Marinette hums in agreement and runs her fingers through his hair. “You’ve still got plenty of time,” she reminds him. “Months.”

“My dad would rather sooner rather than later.”

“Too bad it’s not his life.” She lets him think about it for a few moments before, much to his relief, she turns the conversation back to herself.  “I’ve been talking a lot to Wayzz lately,” she says softly, her voice taking on the sort of storytelling quality it sometimes does when it’s late and they’ve been video chatting for so long that nothing but the screen feels real.

“Have you?” Adrien asks in surprise. She had told him about Wayzz, how he had been the one to approach her about the scholarship, how he’d found her new shoes when Chloé wrecked hers before the showcase. Adrien’s only ever really heard about Wayzz in passing from Plagg and Tikki, and now Marinette, but he’s been almost an invisible force in Adrien’s life for years now.

“Mhm, it’s been nice.” Adrien shifts so he can look up at her as she talks. “He’s been really helpful.” She tenses and Adrien lifts his head from her shoulder in surprise as she starts to ramble. “I-I mean, I’ve been talking to Tikki and Plagg too and I love them and their opinions mean the world to me and they’ve been super helpful, but it feels a little different sometimes because Wayzz isn’t technically a dancer so it’s almost an outside perspective and—”

“And it’s nice to have another opinion,” Adrien interrupts gently.

Marinette takes a deep breath and gives him a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly. He’s been really helpful when I need new shoes too. Which has been happening a lot more now that I’m doing so much pointe. It’s…it’s weird, I’ve already got a support system and I haven’t even graduated yet.”

It makes Adrien unspeakably happy how easily Marinette has become integrated into his world. He just hopes that he can fit as easily into hers. That’s one thing this weekend will be a test of. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers. “You deserve all the support in the world.”

“Stop that,” Marinette whispers before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Adrien melts under her touch. He’d probably stay here forever with her, with her soft kisses and sparkling eyes, but they separate with a jerk when the first raindrops being to fall.

He’s going to file a complaint with Mother Nature.

“This keeps happening to us,” he says with a sigh.

Marinette laughs. “Weren’t we complaining about how oblivious Alya and Nino were last time?”

He gives her a look. “I can complain about it again.”

She elbows him lightly. “They’ll get there. Eventually.”

“And they told _us_ we were too slow getting together.” Adrien gets to his feet and offers Marinette his hand.

“Do we make a break for it?” she asks as she lets him pull her to a stand.

He squints up at the sky as the rain falls harder. “We’re already soaked,” he points out. “You said something about soup and Ghibli movies?”

Marinette’s smile could clear the clouds from the sky. “I did. Come on, let’s go home.”

 _Home_.

Right now, home feels like anywhere Marinette is. Getting on the train this morning didn’t feel like he was leaving much behind, even for a weekend. It could’ve been a one way trip and he thinks he’d feel the same. He’d miss Nino, he’d miss Nathalie, he’d miss the familiarity of Paris and Tikki and Plagg, but he wouldn’t hesitate a moment longer than he did when he stepped onto the morning train headed out of the city. He can see himself staying here in the rainy park with Marinette for years, and he wouldn’t miss much.

Marinette takes Adrien down streets that he doesn’t recognize. She’ll have to lead him around for ages before he’s able to find his bearings on his own, but he can’t find it in him to mind.

It takes him a while to realize they’re taking the scenic route.

They’re dripping wet and freezing cold, and she still wants to show him around. She has a skip in her step and a smile on her face, dancing to nonexistent music that he has to strain to hear.

Marinette pulls him in a slow circle at a street corner, sidestepping puddles and cracks, humming a song he vaguely recognizes from one of her playlists softly. Adrien wraps an arm around her waist and turns their steps into a waltz.

She leads more than he does, but it’s so easy for him to hand over the reins and let her. Her hand feels so _right_ in his. They fit together perfectly, they walk together in step and they move together as one. Marinette leans her forehead against his, smiling like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be, than in the pouring rain on an old street corner.

Adrien’s heart feels so full that he swears that it’s going to burst. _I love her_ bubbles up inside of him, running through his mind over and over again— a mantra, a promise, a _truth_. It bubbles up from his heart and off of his tongue and he wouldn’t stop it even if he could.

“I love you.”

Marinette’s eyes flutter open, her lips parted in surprise. And then the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles, shining and shining and shining. And Adrien would give the entire universe just to make her smile like this for the rest of time.

“I love you too,” she whispers, like it’s a secret that she doesn’t want to break, like it’s something fragile and precious.

The butterflies in Adrien’s stomach flutter up and burst into bright laughter. He holds her closer and presses their foreheads together again. “I love you I love you I love you _I love you_.”

They stumble over the next waltz step, but find their footing again in each other, and Adrien lets himself get swept away by her music, her magic, her smile, the rain and the thunder—

She dances him away to somewhere where his feet will never touch the ground.

And he couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much for all your love and support. im on [tumblr](http://sadrien.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fics) if you'd like to reblog this or support me <3
> 
> (ps: i'm totally crying again. two endings is too much for me)


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